


Kataigída

by Beardysteve, spacebuck



Series: Kataigída [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU - mermaid, Happy Ending, Human!Steve, M/M, Mild descriptions of violence, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-WS Bucky Barnes - Freeform, Switch Bucky Barnes, allusions to some not-nice parts of bucky's childhood, far too much worldbuilding, mer!Bucky, mermaid au, rbb2018, switch steve rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beardysteve/pseuds/Beardysteve, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebuck/pseuds/spacebuck
Summary: There’s a storm above. The water above him is dark, angry; he can feel the tension threading through her, holding her hostage. The water is empty of life other than him, the usual hustle and bustle tucked away safe, deep, where the wind-churned waves can’t affect them. Bucky had never claimed to be the smartest person around, and he doesn’t try to now, drifting in the storm-sea. The crystal in his trident hums at him, so he hums back, gently threading energy out of it and gifting it back to the water.A dark shape cuts through the water above him, and his grip instinctively tightens on the trident. It’s big, too big to be an animal, now that the whales have moved on to follow the warmth. A boat, then.Humans.OR: the fic where Bucky's king of the Mer, Steve's a human, and somehow they make it work.





	Kataigída

**Author's Note:**

> so first of all a big big big thank you to the amazing artist who i had the absolute pleasure of writing for, [beardysteve](http://beardysteve.tumblr.com). Lucii has not only produced this amazing piece of art, but she's been an amazing friend and i'm so fckn lucky to have had the chance to work with her (again omfg). she's been invaluable in this, shoots the shit with me about this au all the damned time, and honestly she's been an all-round star
> 
> secondly a big thank you to [needmorefiction](https://needmorefiction.tumblr.com) and [sorrowingsoldier](http://sorrowingsoldier.tumblr.com), who not only did a hell of a lot of beta stuff with me, but brainstormed with me, fact checked for me, got in touch with people for me, and supported me in every way shape and form ♥
> 
> thirdly, a big shoutout to random-navy-guy who i won't name, for coming up with an amazing worldbuilding idea and letting me use it (even though i didn't create the kraken with it... sorry pal)
> 
> and last but not least, a shoutout to the caprbb mods for making this awesome challenge, and the rbb slack for being awesomely supportive!!
> 
> this is the primary work, however there's a handful of drabbles, oneshots, and an alternate ending, that will be added to the series as i finish them
> 
> [art post](http://beardysteve.tumblr.com/post/174426256243/kataigida-rbb)
> 
> [view high res on imgur!](https://imgur.com/a/QxUeqKx)
> 
> the art in all of it's glory:  
> 

“With all due respect,” Councillor Joran starts, standing strong as James Barnes levels a stare at him. “My Liege,” he adds quickly. “You are too young to remember what happened the last time this conversation came up.”

“I was twenty,” James says coolly, reclining on the throne. “Not completely oblivious. But, Councillor, remind me – what did happen?”

The table is silent, all seated Councillors unwilling to risk the ire of their King. Joran opens his mouth to speak as the silence ticks on, but James cuts him off with the flick of a hand. “That’s right, we put our heads down and hid. We turned our backs on people who needed our help.”

“They didn’t know-” someone starts to protest. Councillor Hali, by the nasal ring to his words.

“That is not an excuse. Their governments were at war, but the people were not. We were in a position to assist, and we chose not to.” James stands, eyes flicking from one Councillor to the next, all the way around the room. “No one on this council was party to that decision. Not one of us. We cannot assume to know the reasons behind it. But we cannot let that influence the one we have to make. It is our duty to do right by our people. Does strangling them count as doing right by them? Confining them to this world, with the opportunity we have slipping through our fingers?”

He is met by silence.

Then, a voice, strong and yet feeling like slime on James’ skin. “How do we know you have the good of _our_ people on your mind, Your Majesty? You take _their_ form. Are you so sure you haven’t taken their side as well? We have things they want even without bringing the crystals into the mix – oil, gold, precious gems. We’re different from them, a curiosity. How can we be sure you haven’t sold us out to them?”

The sharp swish of a tail on his left. James tilts his head to acknowledge Councillor Pierce as he responds. “My people. My city. When have I ever put myself above them? When have I ever put this council above them? If you have evidence to back your concern, bring it to the table, Councillor. Otherwise, this meeting is adjourned. Think of what’s been said. We will discuss this in three days’ time.”

The Councillor doesn’t speak, so James nods, steps away from the table. The council takes their cue, starting to speak among themselves, the light tinkle of laughter ringing around the chamber. Water shifts on his right and James turns his head, body following as he realises who it is.

“Councillor Romanoff, a pleasure as always,” James says, biting back a smile.

“My King,” is the response, voice like velvet. “You sure know how to stir the shit.”

He can’t help it then, a snicker turning into a laugh that he struggles to keep quiet. “Nat,” he says, fond.

“Bucky,” she replies, sing-song. “You’re right though. We’d be missing an opportunity, both for the growth of the city and the growth of our people.”

Bucky sighs, running his fingers up through his hair, pulling it out of the knot it was tied in. The water catches it, pulling the strands up and away from his hands, but he gathers them again with a practised ease. “You tell that to this lot,” he replies, voice dropping low so as not to be overheard.

“They’ll swim themselves in circles,” Nat says with a snort. “You’re pushing them. They might not like it yet, but give it a few days. See what happens when we reconvene.” Bucky finds himself nodding without even thinking, then rolls his eyes.

“Smooth talker,” he says, and his friend grins at him.

“Got me elected, didn’t it?”

She’s right, really, Bucky realises as he watches her swim away. The Mer as a clan are known to be stubborn, stuck in their ways, and the council is no different. Nothing but time would change that. He just hopes it’ll be _before_ the Convergence, not after it.

**

The second meeting is better. The Councillors have had the chance to talk to their ethnes, find out how the people they represented felt on the issue. As with anything, Bucky hopes they’re staying true to that.

It takes hours, but a deal is proposed, counter-proposed, adjusted, bargained, and finally agreed upon. Unanimous, as something this important has to be, though not all Councillors seem happy with their vote. The Mer would vote against the renewal of the Act of Secrecy. The Mer would vote for a plan to be drafted, to finally reveal themselves to the people they shared the Earth with.

Their course is set, and Bucky _hopes_ he’s doing the right thing.

With that on his mind, consequences whirring through his head, he retreats to his chambers after the meeting. Humming low in his throat he focuses, taking a sharp breath as the shift rolls through him. It’s an exquisite sort of agony really, the shift. Swapping tail for legs, legs for tail, is never going to be easy on the body but Bucky loves it. The rush of sensation suddenly as scales soften into skin makes him want to roll in it, bask in the split second where everything is _new_ before his brain catches up.

But, prolonging it isn’t possible, and wishing he _could_ just distracts him from the reason he’s shifted in the first place. Bucky kicks his legs, shaking them out, then starts to pick through the armour the Captain of the Guard would pester him into wearing anyway. It’s gaudy, gold trimmed, dramatic in ways that are fit for a king. Some days, he’s not sure he likes it, but today he really doesn’t care. As long as it does the job

He settles the crown on his head, a heavy reminder to himself about what he’s running from, then he’s grabbing the closest weapon and pushing himself out the open window. The best thing, Bucky thinks, about living underwater, is the complete removal of the need for stairs.

Gold glints as he swims out of the palace grounds, makes a beeline for the border with a considering glance towards the stables. Ultimately though, hitching a ride sort of defeats the purpose of stretching his legs.

Bucky nods, tapping the edge of the trident very lightly against his crown in acknowledgement when a border guard patrol swims past. They don’t stop him, or even attempt to speak to him, acknowledging him with a salute before focusing back on their task. Bucky swims on.

He’s not sure how far he gets, but the temperature shift says he’s probably gone far enough. He looks up, mind still whirring, connecting the dots in all possible scenarios for the Convergence. Trying to work out who would vote with them, who wouldn’t. Trying to work out all the ways it could go wrong.

He doesn’t foresee the one way it does.

**

There’s a storm above. The water above him is dark, angry; he can feel the tension threading through her, holding her hostage. The water is empty of life other than him, the usual hustle and bustle tucked away safe, deep, where the wind-churned waves can’t affect them. Bucky had never claimed to be the smartest person around, and he doesn’t try to now, drifting in the storm-sea. The crystal in his trident hums at him, so he hums back, gently threading energy out of it and gifting it back to the water.

A dark shape cuts through the water above him, and his grip instinctively tightens on the trident. It’s big, too big to be an animal, now that the whales have moved on to follow the warmth. A boat, then.

Humans.

Bucky can’t help himself. One kick, two, and he’s pushing up through the storm-torn water, breaking to the surface with a gasp. The boat, ship really - it’s far too large to be anything but, is still passing by. Bucky hunkers down, just under the surface, unwilling to let himself be seen even though it’d get the whole reveal job done in a blunt sort of way.

There is movement on the deck, the storm whipping up water and making it hard for Bucky to see exactly what’s happening. Then, something falling, and Bucky finds himself striking out, swimming towards the ship to find out what it is.

It’s disappointing, really. An empty crate, contents probably scattered across the deck of the ship. He hears a yell, looks up, and as a wave picks him up, pushing him towards the deck of the boat with its swell, something else comes tumbling down.

Whatever it is, it’s moving.

Bucky kicks his legs, breaking the surface as the wave recedes, and has a moment of stunning clarity, that it’s a _person_ falling towards him before he has to stop thinking and act instead.

Almost entirely on instinct Bucky hums, magic resonating through him before he pushes it out into the waves. _Bring him to me._

The ocean chooses to obey, pushing out, waves settling for the briefest moment as the person hit the water, shoulders first. The impact alone should have knocked him out, but as the waves bring him closer, Bucky can see the man’s eyes open, see him start to struggle. They’re weak, his movements, but Bucky hums still, tone changing until the man breaks the surface, gasps out a breath.

Bucky closes the remaining distance, looping an arm around the man’s waist and keeping him above water. The gasping breaths in his ear aren’t entirely pleasant, but Bucky ignores them, striking out towards the land he knew was somewhere close.

There’s a cough from the man he’s dragging along with him, then a wheezy, “Shit”, and Bucky can’t help but snort. He doesn’t try to say anything, just keeps swimming, letting the waves bat them around only enough to help them on their way.

After a few minutes, the person goes limp, and Bucky worries for a second before he realises that the harsh breaths, while settling, are still hitting his ear in short little puffs.

He swims on.

Bucky’s not sure how much time passes, but eventually, he reaches a small island, and the storm is behind them and moving swiftly in the other direction. It’s more of a sandbar, nothing much beyond sand and water. It’s solid, though, so Bucky pulls the man up onto it, lays him on his side. He’s not completely unconscious but moving, starting to cough, but Bucky waits until he starts to blink before sinking back into the water.

He’s not sure why, really. The man had been at least somewhat conscious the whole time and had almost managed to speak once or twice. The man knows he’s not alone. But Bucky still keeps himself low in the water, keeps his legs to keep his armour. He waits.

The coughing subsides, leaving ragged breathing in its place. Bucky watches as the man’s fingers curl into the sand, then the man starts to push himself upright. “Hello?”

He sounds horrible, voice shredded by salt, and yet Bucky can’t help but shift closer, powerless. Bucky knows he should leave. Should flag down the ship somehow, then run, leave the two to find each other again.

Instead, he lets out a breath, easing a little further out of the water. The man hasn’t seen him yet, somehow, but has managed to get onto his feet, staggering a little. He’s lucky he doesn’t fall right back into the water that’s waiting for him.

“Where are you?”

Bucky braces himself, imagined voices of the council running through his head as he lets the water give him up, pulling away from him with a disgruntled little gurgle. He steps up onto the tiny beach, sand shifting under his boot, the soft crunch making the man tense, spin on the spot, nearly fall over.

God, he’s so screwed.

He doesn’t say anything, just lets the man look him over, watching shock and wonder competing for space on his face. Bucky takes the time to examine the man the water brought him, taking in the water-dark hair, eyes red with salt, plush lips, not that he should be noticing a human’s _lips_.

“You-”

Bucky finds himself raising an eyebrow, taking another step up the beach. “Me.” He says back, the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

The man sits down. Hard. “You.” He says again, wonder finally winning out. He doesn’t even spend all too much time on the part that usually gets the most attention, sunlight glinting off the scales of his arm and certainly doing nothing to hide them. Just looks him from head to toe, then back up, slower. Bucky has to resist the urge to flex a little, preen under the attention.

“You’re real?”

“You’re not dead if that’s what you’re asking,” Bucky responds, slowly crossing the few scant steps between them. “Last time I checked I was real. Might have been mistaken.” He plants the trident firmly in the sand and drops into a crouch, well-oiled armour flexing around the movement even as his heels dig into his ass a little. Holding out his now-empty hand, Bucky offers it to the man, palm up.

Bucky doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but whatever it was, this isn’t it. The man reaches out, hesitant, fingers trailing lightly over Bucky’s palm in a way that makes his stomach clench. Then, down his palm again, before lightly dragging down the edge of Bucky’s nail. Bucky held himself very still, barely breathing as the man’s fingers trail back up to his wrist, resting at the pulse point like he is counting the beats.

“How?” The man asks, and Bucky shifts a little closer, stance widening as he does.

“Which part?” Bucky asks with a smile, tilting his head. “We exist because you haven’t found us yet. We remain hidden because we wish to. I found you because I was in the right place at the right time.”

Silence. The man stares at him, eyes flicking between the skin under his hand, and Bucky’s face. Bucky lets him process, holds himself still, not wanting to startle the man. Then, quietly, “What can I call you?”

“Me personally, or me as in what I am?” Bucky asks, not sure what is more important to humans. To this human. His human.

The man shifts a little on the spot, leaning in, though Bucky isn’t sure he knows he’s doing it. “You, yourself.”

“Call me Bucky,” Bucky responds, head tipping to the side a little, eyes tracking as the man lifts his hand, brushes it over the top of his shoulder, where Bucky’s hair brushes his skin. “What do they call you?”

“Ca-” the man starts, before shaking his head slightly, eyes not leaving Bucky. “Steve.”

Bucky waits, but the man doesn’t seem like he’ll continue speaking. “Where is your ship heading?” Bucky tries, but Steve shakes his head slightly, lips pursing. Best as Bucky can tell, his eyes have drifted sideways. Bucky’s not sure what he’s looking at, but he brings his other hand up, scales glinting iridescent. That catches Steve’s attention again and, amusingly enough, his cheeks are stained pink.

“Classified,” Steve says, and Bucky sighs. Before he could get any words out, Steve speaks, like they’re playing a weird tit-for-tat question game. “Where are you from?”

“Classified,” Bucky mimics, then leans forward a little, until they’re nearly nose-to-nose. “You’re military, then. Norfolk? Newport?” Steve seems surprised, leaning back on his hands, conveniently out of Bucky’s space. A pity, really. Bucky could stand to get a little closer.

Bucky raises his eyebrow again, giving his best look of kingly expectation, but Steve doesn’t fold, just stares up at him. “I’ll find your ship then. But you can’t stay here.”

“I could,” Steve retorts, waving a hand at the desolate little lump of sand that they were on. “Look, there’s everything I could need. Sand. More sand. Some water I can’t drink. Oh, did I forget? Sand.”

Bucky can’t help it, snickering as he pushes himself upright. “Stand up.” When Steve just stares up at him Bucky sighs. “Please?”

“You’re important,” Steve says as he gets to his feet. “Used to ordering people around.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at him, before pointing at his head. “You think?” He says, amused, and watches Steve’s eyes track up, widen.

“Is that real?”

“No, I just glue rocks to my head for fun,” Bucky retorts, droll, before dragging his hand through his hair lightly, pushing it back.

Steve’s silent for a second shifting from foot to foot. “I’m surprised you haven’t skewered me.” At least he’s honest, if not apologetic. Bucky kind of likes it, likes the change from the deference he gets from most. It doesn’t help that he kind of, sort of, _maybe_ wants to push Steve a little further, see how far he bends before he snaps, does whatever he’s stopping himself from doing with aborted little clenches of his hand.

“That’d be no fun,” Bucky says after a second. “You’re interesting, why would I do that?” Interesting, _that’s_ what he’s calling it now. Interesting. Bucky’s interested in _something_ , that’s for sure.

Steve stares at him, eyes flicking down, Bucky can’t help but notice how they linger. “Humans had a king fond of beheading his wives, at one point,” Steve says. “You just don’t know what to expect.”

“You’re not worried,” Bucky says, voice dropping a little before he can stop himself. Steve’s eyes pull up, and Bucky smiles slightly. Steve goes pink again, just the faintest stain on his cheekbones. “If you were, you’d keep your mouth shut.”

Steve’s chin tips up, just a little. Bucky’s seen this look on Natasha, knows the direction this conversation’s about to turn in. Looks forward to it, even. “I was never very good at that,” Steve says, eyes meeting Bucky’s. “Doing what I’m supposed to.”

“I’d never have guessed,” Bucky responds, before stepping forward, into Steve’s space. “There are two ways off this island.”

‘Island’ is generous, but it has the right effect, Steve’s breath stuttering. “And they are?”

“You die,” Bucky starts, holding up a finger, before holding up a second. “Or you come with me.”

Bucky’s sure he’s not thinking with the right head in the slightest, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“I think I’ll go with door number two,” Steve says, finally finding his ground in the conversation if his expression is any indication. “Where would that be?”

“Home,” Bucky says, blunt.

“Don’t you think that’s moving a little fast?” Steve retorts, but he’s staying put as Bucky leans forward a little. “I think we’re missing a pretty vital thing here,” he adds, sounding a little strained as he does.

“I’m not leaving you on this lump of sand to die of heatstroke while I try to find your people.” Bucky smiles, realising what Steve’s worked out. He plays along, raises his eyebrows, says, “And what’s that?”

“You’re a-” Steve stops, flounders a little.

“Mer,” Bucky helpfully supplies.

“You’re a Mer,” Steve tries again, and Bucky nods a little. “You live underwater. I can’t go underwater like this,” He waves a hand at himself, and Bucky takes the opportunity gifted to him to skim his eyes down Steve’s body. “I don’t breathe underwater. Hell, the pressure alone might kill me. Worse, I’ll go _wrinkly_.”

Bucky finally drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face, reluctant to say the least. “If I wanted you dead, you would be,” he says carefully. “I can give you a gift. Temporary, as these things are, but a gift all the same. You would breathe as I do, unhindered. The pressure won’t harm you, regardless. And, if you’re truly concerned, you won’t go wrinkly.”

Steve thinks. Bucky can see it on his face, confusion, want, curiosity. Longing. “What’s the price of this gift?” Steve asks eventually, and Bucky smiles, leans in slowly.

“A kiss.”

Steve’s hand closes around his wrist, firm but not hard, yet Bucky has to hold back a twitch, lest the scales cut Steve’s skin. “Yes,” he says without hesitation.

Bucky closes the distance, quickly, hand catching the back of Steve’s neck as he presses his mouth to Steve’s. He makes an attempt to keep it soft, but as he exhales Steve’s grip tightens on his wrist, pulls a little, and he can’t help himself. His tongue flicks out grazes Steve’s lower lip, and Steve opens for him with the softest noise. Bucky takes what’s offered to him, nudges in a little closer as he deepens the kiss, rucks his hand up into Steve’s hair as he does.

It’s a few minutes before Bucky pulls back, hand lingering in Steve’s hair as he stares at Steve. He wishes he had an excuse to stay where he was, pressed in close, exploring Steve’s mouth, but. But.

He steps back.

Steve’s eyes slowly flutter open, mouth closing like he’s forgotten it could. He looks wrecked, even just from the kiss. Bucky wants to do more. Steve takes in a shuddering breath, then blinks, startled, at the strange feeling. Bucky’s never tried it, never needed it, but he’s been told how it feels, like molasses inching down your throat.

Steve coughs lightly, then looks at him, eyes wide, pupils blown. “What did you do to me?”

“I gave you a gift,” Bucky says, quiet. “Do you feel it?” At Steve’s nod, Bucky steps back, hand closing around the trident as he passes it, pulling it out of the sand. One step, another. He can feel the water shifting behind him, clinging to his boots, climbing the armour like vines. “Good. It’s working. I’m told the feeling fades, but the effects don’t.”

“How long does it..?” Steve starts, cupping his throat.

“It lasts until I remove it,” he says with a secretive little smile, knee-deep and backing out further, letting the ocean welcome him back.

“How do you remove it?” Steve asks, slowly beginning to follow, one step in front of the other. He speaks like he knows already, and he probably does. It’s almost obvious, except for the ways that it isn’t.

“The same way I gave it to you.”

Bucky lets himself fall backwards then, eyes on Steve, and the water pulls him in, his hair fanning out around him.

He watches as Steve hesitates, can’t help but laugh as Steve visibly shrugs and dives in head first.

He watches as Steve stays underwater, holding his breath, eyes open and Staring at Bucky.

He watches as Steve, in a leap of trust that Bucky isn’t entirely sure he deserves considering the circumstances, opens his mouth and breathes in.

Steve’s eyes widen, and Bucky grabs his wrist, tugging him into deeper water with a few kicks of his feet. He knows it’s a weird sensation, basks in it whenever he goes underwater after extended stints on land, but for Steve it has to be uncomfortable, so once they’re deeper he stops, let’s go, and watches Steve.

After a minute of staring, Steve’s expression hasn’t changed much, and Bucky shifts closer. He can see the rise and fall of Steve’s chest, the flicker of his eyes around them, so he knows there’s still something going on in there. He’s concerned all the same. “You alright?” He asks, and Steve jerks like he’s been shocked, heaves in a gasp, chokes. Bucky takes his wrist again, kicking upwards.

Once Steve’s head clears the water he seems to calm, breathing ragged as his arm twists, fingers seeking then latching on to, Bucky’s arm. “You’re okay,” Bucky says quietly. “You’re fine, you’re okay.” He keeps murmuring, the repetitive rises and drops of his voice seeming to settle Steve until he sags forward a little.

“Christ.”

“Nope, it’s Bucky,” Bucky says just to get a laugh. He succeeds, a shaky laugh breaking out of Steve. He edges closer, gets a hand on Steve’s hip to stop him from floating away. “How are you doing?”

“That’s…” Steve starts, finally looking like he’s settling. “A weird feeling.” He gives Bucky a wry smile, and Bucky returns it, slowly starting to guide them in the direction of home with little kicks of his feet.

“It’s hard to go against your instincts like that,” Bucky says as Steve looks around, finally realising they’re moving. “And getting used to the way water is different can take a while. Let me know when you want to try again,” he adds, smiling, and Steve nods a little, stays quiet. A glance back reveals a considering expression, which is better than the borderline panic of before.

After a few minutes of silence Steve’s hand tightens on his wrist a little. “I want to,” He pauses. “Try again. It hasn’t worn off?”

Bucky slows them to a stop, not that they’d been moving very fast to begin with. “It lasts until I remove it,” he repeats from earlier, an amused quirk to his lips.

“Just checking,” Steve says, cheeks going a little pink. “I might have misheard before.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow in disbelief, and as Steve turns a little pinker, Bucky lets himself sink below the surface of the water. Steve’s pants are tucked into heavy boots, so Bucky just tugs lightly on the fabric, waiting for Steve to work up the nerve to join him.

He does, slowly. A few inches, pause, a few more, pause, until his whole face is under the water. He looks down, and Bucky smiles up at him, hand tightening on his ankle briefly in what he hopes is a reassuring touch.

Bucky lets himself slide up through the water a little until he’s level with Steve again, smiling a little. “Take a breath,” Bucky says slowly, enunciating. Steve probably won’t be used to the way the water distorts speech, so Bucky makes an effort to be heard, projecting his voice.

Steve does, a small inhale. His eyes widen, but he stays where he is, and Bucky smiles at him encouragingly. “There we go,” he says, and Steve narrows his eyes slightly.

Another small breath, in and out, and then Steve’s speaking slowly, carefully. “How does this even work?” Bucky shrugs in response, grinning.

“You’ll have to ask one of our crafters that, I wouldn’t have the slightest idea.”

When Steve just stares at him, Bucky elaborates a little. “I only know the basics all children are taught. Then my world became politics, and as much as I wanted to investigate things more, I simply didn’t have the time. I know what I know, but I don’t know that.”

“What are the basics then?” Steve asks, and Bucky realises that there’s more to it than just _knowing_. It’s a distraction.

“Well,” Bucky says, edging closer. “Not all Mer have this ability, but it’s been researched enough regardless. When I kissed you, I transferred a… component, I guess, of what gives us the ability to breathe underwater to you, and it’s coated the insides of your lungs. But when I call it back, it’ll leave without a trace of it being there. Theoretically, it could have a wider effect, but it hasn’t really been studied as it seems to depend on the person giving it.” He brings his trident closer, lets go of Steve for a second to tap the crystal in the top of it. “This helps focus the power. The closer we are to one, the more precise we can be when we craft.”

Steve stares at him for a moment, then lets out a breath, bubbles bursting free as the last of the true air in his lungs escapes. “That doesn’t help as much as I thought it would,” he says, quiet, and Bucky rubs his hand over Steve’s arm lightly. “I’ll get used to it,” He adds after a second. “Can we go deeper?”

Bucky holds out a hand for Steve to take, then pulls him down through the water.

**

As they approach the City from behind, Bucky goes on alert, slowing down. Steve slows behind him, concern flicking over his features when Bucky glances back.

Shaking his head, Bucky watches the guards, tiny little specks from this distance, then starts to swim again. He’d timed many an escape from the castle as a child, knew how to just avoid their line of sight, the exact moment to dart through the open window near the top of the tower. This time, however, he has Steve in tow. Then again, this time he’s king.

Shaking off the childhood fear, he latches a hand around Steve’s wrist, pulling him forward a little as he starts to swim, making it clear Steve is with him.

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” Bucky says as he glances back at Steve, who snorts.

“I thought I was done being snuck into people’s bedrooms,” Steve says, droll, and Bucky doesn’t bother to even try to hide the flush crawling across his cheeks.

“The council won’t look on this favourably,” Bucky starts, and Steve pulls him to a stop in a surprising burst of strength. “Will my being here harm your city?” Steve asks, and Bucky shakes his head. Steve cuts him off before he can speak again, asking, “Will my being here harm you in any way?”

“Steve,” Bucky says, soft. “No. To both. There are Councillors who are against the idea of us revealing ourselves to humans. While there was an agreement, they represent their ethnes, not their own ideas, while on the council.” At Steve’s confusion, he pauses, raising an eyebrow and waiting for Steve to explain what isn’t making sense.

“Ethne?” Steve prompts after a second of staring. “I don’t know a thing about your people, okay, you’re gonna have to break a few things down.”

Bucky snorts, tugging Steve into motion again. “An ethne is like…. A clan. A group of people within the city who live in the same area. Each one elects two Councillors.”

Steve makes a noise of understanding, then smiles when Bucky glances at him. “We have those. My country has a few tiers of them, the biggest being states, the smallest being districts.”

“Your country being..?” Bucky prompts. He thinks he knows but needs to make sure before he makes a fool of himself.

“The United States of America,” Steve responds. “Because… states.”

Bucky snorts, filing the information away as he shakes his head a little at Steve. “How eloquent,” he says with a grin, before slowing as they approach the path of the guard patrol.

As they do, one of the Mer patrols rounds the corner, tails glinting in the light thrown out by the crystals set up along the path. Steve goes very quiet next to him, content to be pulled along. The guards stop when they see who’s in their path, and in unison move, one hand crossing their chest, closed hands resting over their hearts.

Bucky returns the gesture, keeping his grip on Steve’s arm tight as he pulls the human past, and the guards resume their patrol.

“Why don’t you look like that?” Steve asks, gesturing to the patrolling guards, tail glinting along with the blade at their sides.

Bucky smiles, kicking his legs a little more dramatically than he needs to. “Because I’m special,” he replies, teasing, almost, truthful, almost.

“Because you’re king?”

Bucky shakes his head but doesn’t reply again. It’s not his place to reveal the secrets of others, even if it relates to him. Steve knowing about the Mer is one thing, but knowing about the rest? That would come down on Bucky’s head. So, he stays silent, and Steve doesn’t ask again, lets the silence settle between them.

Bucky pulls them up a little, towards the windows leading to his chambers, and lets Steve go to grab the bottom of the window frame. With a tug, he’s through, and he holds his hand out to Steve as Steve follows him. He pulls Steve in as he clips the trident into its stand, and Steve looks around with wonder on his face. “Is this your…” he flounders for his words, Bucky smiles.

“My part of the palace, yes. We can’t stay here though, I must present you to the council. On my terms, not theirs.” He sighs at the realisation, runs his thumb over the back of Steve’s hand, making the man jump a little. “Which means I have to shift.”

Steve’s eyes light up at that, at whatever connection he’s made. “Shift like… into a tail?” At Bucky’s nod, he ventures a request, making Bucky’s eyes widen before he realises that Steve has no idea what he’s actually asking. “Can I… watch?”

Bucky shakes his head slightly, squeezing Steve’s hand. “Not unless you want an eyeful,” he says with a wave of his hand, towards the armour on his legs. “This doesn’t shift with me.”

Steve’s eyes go dark for a second, two. Then he blinks, and the expression’s gone. “Oh. You must think I’m an idiot,” He adds, which has Bucky making a noise of disagreement almost before the words are out of his mouth.

“No. You didn’t know. There are many things you don’t know about us, and that’s been our choice to keep it that way. There’s no shame in that.” He can’t resist then, leaning forward, pressing a kiss to Steve’s forehead.

He pulls back, ducks his head, moving quickly around Steve while Steve stays still, probably in shock. “I’ll be back,” Bucky says quietly, before retreating to the safety of his bedroom to berate himself.

**

When he returns, it’s with a jingle, hair pinned up neatly and the heavy bracelets of his station snapped into place around his wrists, gold blending into the tattoos up his normal arm. There hasn’t been a good enough reason for him to crack out the jewellery in a long time, but he feels like it’ll help this time around. He’s not sure how Steve’s going to react. The iridescent scales coating his tail in are no way subtle, and there is no way to hide them. Especially not when Steve so obviously wanted to see them. Shit.

Steve’s looking out the front-facing window when he comes in, and Bucky holds his breath, waiting for him to realise, to turn.

He does, and the look of wonder on his face doesn’t fade in the slightest. “You-” he starts, barely more than a breath, before stopping. Bucky swims closer, cracks a smile, holds his arms out from his body a little in an invitation to look.

“Looks weird, huh,” He starts, but as soon as he’s in arms’ reach Steve’s grabbing one of his wrists, tugging him in closer.

“Can I touch?” He asks, eyes dropping to Bucky’s chest, down to where the skin gives way to scales. Bucky shouldn’t want it so much, shouldn’t be considering allowing it. Not with what it means, not when Steve doesn’t _know_. But, it just makes Bucky want to do it even more.

He nods, tries to tell himself it’s nothing, but the full-body shudder that racks him at the first gentle touch gives him away pretty quickly.

Steve freezes, fingers resting on those tiny scales on his hip. “Is this okay?” He asks, considerate. Bucky jerks out a nod.

“Fine,” he says, abrupt. Steve gives him a look, so he elaborates a little. “Just… sensitive. Not as well protected there.”

An understanding dawns on Steve’s face, and he shifts his hand up, away from where he’d had it. The weight on his hip is nice, but Bucky kind of wants to push it back to where it had been. “Sorry,” Steve says, and Bucky shrugs, flicks his tail to keep him above the ground.

“It’s fine,” Bucky says instead, hoping he doesn’t sound too desperate. He’s not sure he succeeds, but Steve moves his hand back anyway, tracing along the join and then down onto the true scales.

“If it wasn’t for the fact that I can feel you, I’d think I was dreaming,” Steve says quietly. “All of this is so surreal.” Bucky reaches out at that, lightly curls it around Steve’s arm, careful of his nails.

“I’m real. You’re here.” He tugs lightly, and when Steve moves closer, he smiles. “What can I say to make you believe?”

“Tell me,” Steve says quickly, then he pauses like he hasn’t actually thought any further than that. “Tell me about your people. Tell me how a city this big goes unnoticed for so long when my people have cameras and sonar and submarines.”

“We live with the water,” Bucky says as though it’s that simple, and really, it is. “We ask, accept what she gives. We work with her, not against her. She is the one who gave us these,” he adds, bringing his hand down and tapping the small crystal pendant that hangs from the chain around his neck.

“That’s no gem I’ve ever seen,” Steve says as the crystal pulses in response to the light tap, light flickering before it settles into a low glow.

“It’s not a gem,” Bucky says. “You don’t have a word for it. Crystal is as close as English gets to what they are.”

“What does it do?”

Bucky hums quietly, smiles when the crystal gets brighter in response. “It picks up energy, converts it. Just light at first, but then after long enough some of our people were able to… guide it. Crafters, we call them now. Like your… inventors? They come up with new applications for what the crystals let us do.”

“Do they protect you from being found?” Steve asks as he starts to catch on. “Help you build? Forge without heat, grow without sun?”

Bucky nods a little, smiles as he rests his hands on Steve’s shoulders. “Yes. We don’t _grow_ much apart from the crystals themselves, so the crystals allow us to work in sync with what lives around us, and in turn the gifts we gave them benefits them as well.”

“Like?” Steve asked, but Bucky shook his head a little.

“I’ll show you, take you down to the Crafters, let you see them work. But, first, we have to head down to the council chambers,” he says as he drops his hands off Steve’s shoulders to his forearms. “Get the yelling over with so they’ll leave you alone.”

“You’re the king,” Steve says with a soft sort of confusion. “Why would they yell at you?”

Bucky gives him a wry smile, hand tightening slightly on Steve’s arm before he lets go. “Within that room we are all essentially equal. In almost every way I am just the twenty-first Councillor.”

Steve’s quiet, processing this information, then, “What ways aren’t you?”

Bucky gives Steve’s arm a tug, guiding him to the window again. “I have the final say on anything. I can, if I please, veto something the rest of the council agrees on unless that agreement is for me to step down. The rest… you’ll see,” he says, swimming down towards the floor that housed the council chambers.

Steve follows, slowly, and when Bucky pauses to look at him he’s staring around in wonder, every little thing that is so normal in Bucky’s life catching his attention.

Slowing, Bucky lets him take it in, basks in his reactions, written so plainly on his face. Eventually, he tugs Steve in through another opening, into the council’s antechamber. The guard at the door seems surprised, but he masks it quickly, and Bucky doesn’t comment on it.

“Please send out a summons to the council,” Bucky says to him, and the guard nods, presses his fist to his heart, and leaves quickly. They’re left facing the heavy doors of the council room, one of the few actual doors in the palace.

“You are the first human to be allowed within the city,” Bucky says, trying to convey the weight of the discussion that would be happening behind those doors. “And one of few not on the council to be allowed in this room.”

“You’re placing a lot of trust in someone you barely know,” Steve replies, and Bucky raises an eyebrow in response.

“You are military. You wouldn’t reveal where your ship was heading despite everything I said. You are trustworthy. Now it is our turn to earn that trust from you. And, if it comes to it,” he adds, voice soft, almost sad. “I can make you forget.”

He doesn’t give Steve a chance to answer, just pushes one of the heavy doors open, leads the way through.

Bucky tries to imagine what it’s like, seeing the room for the first time. He’d been so young that by the time he’d been old enough to recognise the opulence, he’d been used to it.

A massive stone table dominates the room, the carvings on it like spokes on a wheel. Two stone pillars stood within each spoke, about where, Bucky assumes, a human chair would be. Plush silks hung from them, identifying the ethne that Councillor was from.  The throne sat at the head, commanding, the only true seat by human standards, crystals set into the stone. And the walls – Bucky had spent much of his childhood tracing the walls with curious fingers, reading the tales the mosaics told.

Steve stands in the doorway, mouth agape. Bucky’s not sure what the other man had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. “Close the door behind you,” Bucky says, pausing by the carved table, fingers rubbing over an indent in it, worn smooth by water and by careful fingers.

The dull click of the door closing echoes through the windowless room, and Steve pulls himself through the water slowly, hesitantly. “It’s beautiful,” Steve says slowly as he pulls to a stop in front of Bucky. “Can you tell me what they mean?” He asks, a hand waving to the splashes of colour coating the walls. “When there’s time?”

Bucky hesitates, then nods. He doubts the council will be overly happy about it, but they weren’t going to be happy about Steve being here in the first place, so honestly, Bucky doesn’t mind piling a few more things on top of that. “When there’s time,” he echoes in agreement, then tips his head in the direction of the throne. “Best if you’re not by the door when the others arrive.”

Steve tenses. But, when Bucky swims towards the throne, settles himself on it with a steadying hand on the table, Steve follows, stands at his side. Bucky glances up, smiles slightly, and Steve gives a tense smile back.

The door opens.

**

Each and every Councillor reacts differently, some with disgust, some with confusion, and, in the case of Natasha, absolute glee.

Councillor Pierce is the last to enter, and he stops in the doorway as soon as he sees Steve. The room goes quiet, waiting for the most senior Councillor to speak. Bucky braces himself, not reaching for Steve even though he wants to.

Pierce doesn’t disappoint. “The siren’s Sung himself a pet, how quaint.”

Bucky tenses, even as he can feel Steve bristling next to him. “One would like to remind the Councillor of his approaching election,” he says instead, eyes sharp. “And one’s ability to place a veto.”

The room remains silent, but out of the corner of his eye, Bucky can see Natasha fighting a smile. Pierce stays silent, levelling a foul look Bucky’s way before he takes his position against one of the pillars.

“It’s likely clear to you why I have called this meeting,” Bucky says, dropping the high formality a little. “I have no wish to deceive or dishonour you, so I bring you forward to make your own judgement.  We have a human in our midst, the first of his kind to enter the city.”

All eyes went to Steve, who straightens himself up, meets the gaze of each Councillor one by one. Bucky’s impressed by his gall, smiles a little before pushing the expression away. “His presence with us was caused by a storm, and he will be returning to his people promptly. I bring him before you to make your own judgement on him, and to partake in the binding words if you allow it.”

Steve gives him a little look, surprise flicking over his face before he settles it. He looks wrong with the mask of calm on his face, but Bucky’s not about to say as much, not here.

“He has not been told of what is required of him, to bring truth to his words,” Bucky says, before tipping his head towards Steve. “Tell the council who you are, what you do,” he says directly to Steve, before his voice drops. “Be honest.”

Steve steps forward a little, and all eyes turn to him. He clears his throat and starts to speak, back ramrod straight. “I am Captain Steve Rogers, of the United States Navy,” he begins, and yeah, Bucky felt more than a little proud to have guessed as much.

Steve describes the reason his ship was out on the water, runs through how he was knocked into the water, how Bucky saved him.

The Councillors begin to ask questions, and Steve answers what he can, stands staunchly by what he can’t. It’s nearly an hour before the Councillor Primus moves forward. The chatter around the room dies out as everyone watches the older man levels a stare at Steve.

“I am of the belief,” Councillor Fury starts, “That having you here will not be a risk to our safety.” He turns to the rest of the council, the weight of his words not lost on Bucky, and hopefully not on Steve. “I put this to a majority vote. All in favour of giving the human the binding words, allowing him to stay until his people can be located, raise your hand.”

Natasha’s hand is the first up, her eyes steady on Bucky, not missing a thing. Other hands start to rise, others stay stubbornly down.

After a minute, Councillor Fury turns to face Bucky, well more than half of the Councillors in favour. He nods to Bucky, and Bucky rises to face the council.

“It is decided. The human is to speak the binding words, and his actions will reflect on me, as his sponsor.” Steve inhales sharply beside him, but Bucky doesn’t look his way, watches the Councillors stand, start to head for the door.

Pierce is the first one out, slinking through the door after giving Bucky a cold look. Natasha stays, making her way around the table to stand next to Steve, looking him over from head to toe. Before she can say anything, Councillor Fury approaches, movements precise, measured.

“James Barnes, in all my years as an advisor to your father,” Fury starts, and Bucky grins, knowing where this is going. Fury hasn’t used his full name in months, only ever uses it when he’s scolding. “I’ve never seen something so monumentally stupid.” Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Bucky hushes him with a hand on his arm. “Provoking Councillor Pierce is not something you should do lightly.”

“The old coot has a stick up his ass,” Bucky says, ignoring Fury’s pursed lips, which honestly could be either annoyance or amusement. He’s never been able to tell. “He won’t be happy until I’m no longer on the throne, so I might as well make him even more miserable.”

“Did you bring me here to play political games?” Steve asks, voice a little sharp. He looks more closed off than he’d been even while answering questions from the council, eyes hard. “If that’s the case, I’ll be finding my own way home.”

Nat purses her lips behind Steve, and Bucky doesn’t acknowledge her, giving Steve his full attention. “No,” he says bluntly, knowing that Steve won’t accept anything else. “I brought you here because I wanted to, and I didn’t want to leave you to die. I might be a king, but I’m not entirely without heart.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Steve sighs, sags a little. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Was it?” Bucky replies, before letting his eyes shift to Natasha. “Steve, this is Natasha, Councillor Romanoff, a close friend, and hopefully here to act as a witness to the Oath of Secrecy.”

Natasha smiles, all pleasantries, but Bucky can see the way she’s weighing Steve up, judging his worth. She holds out a hand, and Steve takes it, surprise on his face.

“You guys shake..?” He starts, but Nat shakes her head as she lets go.

“No, but you do.”

“Natasha is our Head of Intelligence, it’s her job to know things,” Bucky says when Steve flounders. “Tash, will you witness?” He asks directly, knowing she’s waiting for that.

She raises a single eyebrow, amused, but nods once. Fury clears his throat on Bucky’s other side, so he nods, directs Steve’s attention his way.

“Councillor Fury, our Primus,” he pauses, looks at Steve. “Head Councillor, he helps manage meetings like this one, and assists me with the day-to-day running of our clan.”

 Before Steve can say what he’s clearly thinking, Bucky turns a little to face him fully.

“I’m sorry I had to keep this from you. If we give people time to prepare, they’re more likely to hide things from us. The Oath is the last step in,” he waves a hand at the table, the chamber. “All of this. It’s fairly straightforward. You swear not to speak of us to those who do not know we exist.”

                Steve’s quiet for a minute, then nods slightly. “And if I don’t?” He asks, but there’s a note in his voice that says that’s not what he’s decided to do.

Bucky tells him anyway.

“If not, I Sing you to sleep, and you’ll wake up on a coastline without remembering what happened between being knocked overboard, and waking up.”

“You’ve had to do that before?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Bucky hedges. “You’re the first human here.” He doesn’t say any more, lets Steve work it out by himself. Thankfully, Steve keeps his mouth shut, even as his eyes widen a little.

A displeased little hum comes from Bucky’s left and he glances over, giving Fury a wry smile. “Sorry, Councillor.”

“Shall we begin?” Fury says, and Bucky nods, moves back and leaves Steve to the centre of their little circle. “If you agree, say ‘I do’ and nothing more,” Fury begins, before taking a deep breath. When Fury speaks again it’s with power, shivering up Bucky’s spine as it brushes over him on its way to Steve. The light in the room flickers, the crystals dimming as Fury draws on them.

“Do you, Steve Rogers, vow to keep your silence regarding our kind?” Fury says, and Steve’s eyes are wide as he swallows hard.

“I do.”

“Do you vow to protect our existence by not exposing us to those who would do us harm?”

“I do.”

The power in Fury’s voice shifts, directed at Steve as Fury speaks the final part of the Oath. “Repeat after me: I, Steve Rogers, so vow: none shall learn of you from me.”

Steve does, immediately and without hesitation. Then he gasps, hunching forward a little as his hand wraps around his throat, surprise on his face.

The power in the room fades, and Natasha nods. “Witnessed,” She says as she and Fury move back, giving Bucky room.

He uses it too, closing the distance without speaking, gently catching Steve’s shoulder as his tail curls loosely around Steve’s waist. “Thank you Fury, Tasha,” Bucky says, eyes on Steve, and after a few moments, the heavy council chamber doors open, then click closed.

It takes a long while for Steve to speak, his breathing off slightly like there’s something in his throat. When he does speak, Bucky’s not expecting what he says.

“Magic is real?” Steve asks, rubbing his throat. Bucky knows the feeling, the ghost of the binding words still on his tongue, from times past.

“We’re real,” he replies. “Did you really think we were the only thing hidden from you?”

Steve looks up then, hand still on his throat. “There’s so much of the world we’re missing,” he says, quiet, sad. Bucky can’t help himself, leaning forward, moving his hands to cup Steve’s cheeks, careful, so careful of the edges of his scales.

“Not for much longer,” Bucky responds, continuing as Steve’s eyes widen. “But change is slow. Things must be put in place first.”

“How long?” Steve asks, head tilting slightly into the press of Bucky’s grip. At least, that’s what Bucky hopes it is. Then, Steve turns pink, flush quickly covering his cheeks. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“You’ve never dealt with royalty before, have you?” Bucky asks instead of answering the question.

Steve gives him a wry smile, hands coming up to lightly rest on Bucky’s wrists. “Is it obvious?” Bucky laughs, but Steve continues before he can even think of something to say. “You don’t exactly act like royalty, not like ours at least. It’s easy to forget you’re not just a regular person.”

Bucky lets his tail curl a little more firmly around Steve for a second, smiles. “Regular person huh,” he drawls, and the shade of pink on Steve’s cheeks changes, gets darker. “What kind of people are you meeting?”

Steve looks at him for a second, then, seeming to find something in his gaze, he drops a hand to Bucky’s tail. His fingers spread over the scales, warm, and Bucky can’t help but shiver at the feeling.

“Nothing like you,” Steve says, voice so quiet Bucky doesn’t think he’s supposed to have heard it. His fingers edge down, slow, towards the fin at the end, like gossamer in the water.

“You can,” Bucky says, impulsive, before he reigns himself in, gives his tail a little flick. “Touch, I mean.”

Steve takes him at his word, fingers exploring the delicate-looking skin. It’s quiet until those fingers catch on something. “What..?” Steve starts, and Bucky shrugs, fanning his tail out to let Steve see what his fingers had found.

The ridge of scarring wasn’t overly noticeable unless you looked hard like Steve is now. “I had it pierced,” he says, just to see Steve’s reaction.

“Really?” He looks sceptical, so Bucky shrugs, relaxes his tail again and settles a hand on Steve’s shoulder for balance.

“No. Not befitting a king,” Bucky says, edge of self-mockery in his voice. He’d wanted one, when it was the new thing, when everyone else his age was doing it. He’d been told no, time and time again. Eventually, he’d given up. “It’s funny, how slow we move when we can’t use our tail,” he says instead, letting Steve work it out for himself.

Before Steve can say anything, Bucky shrugs, sliding out from under Steve’s hands, reluctantly letting go of him. “Come, I want to show you the City.”

It distracts Steve like he meant for it to, Steve’s face lighting up at the prospect. Bucky takes his hand, pulling him towards the door.

**

“Where are we going?”

Bucky twists his body, looking at Steve with a little smile. “You asked about our Crafters,” he says, “so I was taking you to them. Unless you’d rather not?”

Steve’s face lights up and he kicks his feet, speeding up to pull even with Bucky. “What are they working on?” he asks instead of answering.

Bucky shrugs as he turns back to face where they’re going, weaving through the palace grounds to the adjacent Crafters Guild. “I’m not sure. It’s been a while since I was able to put in hours here, and I’m only presented with completed projects. Could be anything.”

Steve is silent for a second before he turns his head to look at Bucky fully. “You’re a Crafter?”

“In the official sense of the word, no” Bucky says with a little shrug. “If I hadn’t been son of the king, I might have been. The ability is somewhat common in my ethne, and I have it. I never got the chance to develop it, see where my limits were though.” He shrugs, and Steve stares at him for a second like he’s processing.

“What was the last thing they showed you?” He asks, looking like he’s swallowing down other questions.

That actually made Bucky think, filtering all of his meetings with the Guild apart until he could put his finger on the most recent. “An update to our weaponry. There were some issues with the previous models that weren’t discovered until they were being used properly. The crystals weren’t harmonising properly with the metal, and it was interfering with their use, backfiring. I’m assuming they fixed the problem, because since then there’ve been no reports of accidental discharges or backfires.”

Steve’s silent, and when Bucky looks at him he seems shocked. “What’s that look for?” Bucky prompts, smiling as Steve startles a little.

“Uh. Nothing, just thinking. Our weapons are so different from yours, and it’s disconcerting I guess, to realise how different the directions our technology has taken us are.”

Bucky frowns a little in thought, then shrugs slightly, jewellery clinking slightly as he does. “How have yours developed?” he asks, curious, as they arrive at the doors to the guild.

“To be long distance mostly, and fast. There are far more people comfortable with a gun than with a knife, let alone a sword.”

“Huh,” Bucky says, filing that away in his mind. “Do a lot of people have guns?”

“Too many,” Steve says, sounding a little sharper than before, so Bucky reaches out, brushes his hand over Steve’s shoulder before turning to the door and dropping that line of conversation.

“Do you want to go in?”

Steve stares at him. “Obviously.”

Bucky opens the door, watches as Steve sags a little at the plain-looking reception area. “Did you expect things to be happening right there?” He asks with a grin, swimming inside and tugging Steve behind him.

Bucky smiles at the receptionist as they swim past, then takes a turn down a hallway that slowly meandered downwards. “There was more room underground,” he says at Steve’s confused expression. “Plus the crystals grow underground, so they resonate better here.”

He keeps moving, past a few offshoot corridors until he reaches a set of heavy doors. He pauses, looks at Steve over his shoulder. “Keep your voice down,” he says softly. “We don’t want to disturb them too much.” He waits for Steve to nod then carefully pushes open the door, slips through, closes the door behind Steve.

The room is massive, but Bucky’s eyes are on Steve as he takes it all in, mouth hanging open. Bucky taps his chin lightly and Steve closes it with a snap. “Holy shit,” Steve breathes out.

A tiny squid-like creature comes bumbling over to them, nudging Steve with a tentacle before bumping itself into Steve like an overly affectionate pet. “You can pet her,” comes the voice from across the room, making Bucky glance over. “If she starts humming it means she’s happy.”

Bucky watches Steve reach out, tentative, then stroke his fingers lightly over the creature. She starts to vibrate, pulsing little noises coming from her as the Crafter came over from her workstation.

“She’s cute,” Bucky says with a grin. “What’s she doing?”

“Well,” the Crafter says, before stopping, evidently only just realising who she’s talking to. “My king. She’s supposed to be looking for genetic inconsistencies, things like cancer, genetic disorders. But she seems to think your companion is faulty.”

Bucky snickers at that, poking Steve lightly, but Steve is entranced with the little creature, tentacles and all. “Maybe she’s picking up that he’s not Mer?” Bucky offers, glancing back at the Crafter. “Humans surely have a noticeably different genetic code to the average Mer.”

“Good point,” the Crafter says, squinting at the creature. “I might run some comparisons, see what she could be picking up. She doesn’t seem to want to stick with one part of him either,” she adds, watching in amusement as the creature bats at Steve’s face with her tentacles before chasing his hands. “If humans are that different, it explains that too.” She hums, then swims off, clicking her tongue as the creature follows, sort of.

“What on earth..?” Steve says, breathless as he watches the creature depart, get sidetracked and end up wandering off again.

Bucky takes Steve’s hand, pulls him a little deeper into the room. “The crystals let us work with the world around us, down to the molecular level. If we focus, practice, we can use the crystals to convince even genes to shuffle around a bit. If it works, we can get some really interesting features out of it.”

“You test on animals?” Steve sounds horrified and while Bucky’s not entirely sure what was happening on land to garner that reaction, he shakes his head.

“No. We craft things from scratch. A crafter will assemble a genetic code, then use the crystals to convince it to _do_ something with the resources it’s given. We can’t force things into being, only try to convince them.”

Steve seems to settle at that, so Bucky nudges him along, deeper into the workshop. “Do you release them?”

“Once it’s been determined that they won’t threaten or overbalance the current ecosystem, yes we do. Anything we’re not sure of, or we think will harm it, we ensure is looked after with the dignity and respect it deserves.”

There’s a hum, then Steve looks at Bucky with more than just a little bit of excitement in his eyes. “Okay, what else do you have in here?”

**

The next morning, Bucky reluctantly leaves the city, leaving Steve with Natasha. It takes him longer than he thought to get back to where he’d found Steve, very little distinguishing the area from any other without the storm in place.

He snoops for a bit, looking for any trace of the ships passing, but even the crate had been carried off by the currents, and the water wasn’t being overly forthcoming with information.

So, he starts to swim in the general direction the ship had been moving, distance falling away behind him as he focuses. It’s not that he wanted Steve to go, but he’d promised to look, so he is going to fulfil that promise, as much as it made something in his gut twist in displeasure.

Because, as much as he shouldn’t, he _likes_ Steve. He’s easy to talk to, easy to just _be_ around. There’s no expectation of how Bucky should act, nothing stopping him from asking questions no one else would, about Bucky’s world, about his life, about his past.

And it’s stupid, Bucky thinks to himself as he swims, so stupid but he wants to touch Steve, wants to taste him again. Wants to find what makes Steve smile, what makes him shiver, makes him moan. But he can’t work out whether it’s curiosity or something more, and that’s been enough of a reason for him to keep his hands to himself.

He’s not sure how long he’ll last though. He’s never been good at denying himself when there’s nothing else – no one else – stopping him. And, if the way Steve’s hands on him meant anything, if the way he learned Bucky’s tail, played with the edges of scales, with the points of Bucky’s nails, if that’s any indicator, Steve wasn’t about to stop him either.

He doesn’t realise how late it is until the sky above starts to turn pink, and he still hasn’t found anything of use to Steve. With a sigh, he turns back the way he came, thoughts still a mess.

**

When he breaks the news to Steve though, much later, as he pulls himself through the window to his suite, Steve doesn’t look all too upset. And why would he, Bucky realises, Steve knows where the ship was heading in the first place.

Yet he hadn’t said anything before Bucky had left that morning.

Steve gives him a little frown as soon as he’s clear of the window, pushing himself away from the chair he’d been sitting on. “You pushed too hard,” is the first thing he says, a hand brushing over Bucky’s shoulder. Maybe he did, sure, but he’s not sure why that’s the first thing Steve’s commenting on. Unless.

“I went further than expected, had to move a bit faster than I’d planned on the way back,” he says instead of asking what he wants to ask. “Did Natasha look after you?”

Something flickers in Steve’s eyes, there then gone, before he nods. “We went back out into the City. People are nicer than I expected, even though I’m clearly not one of them,” he waves a hand down at his legs. “Though Natasha tried to get me to dress like a Mer and that didn’t go down well,” he adds and grins at Bucky’s raised eyebrows. “Don’t have the legs for it. Or. Don’t have the tail for it, I guess,” he stumbles, making Bucky laugh even as his mind latches onto the visual.

Mer don’t shift underwater, in that way Bucky is special in this Clan. Which meant most clothing, though calling it clothing is a stretch when comparing it to human clothes, wasn’t geared towards modesty.

And if that thought alone is the last one Bucky ever got, he’d die happy, that’s for sure.

“How’d Nat react?” Bucky asks instead of drooling, hoping like hell Steve doesn’t notice the way that thought is affecting him.

“I’m pretty sure she did it just to make fun of me,” Steve says, hand finally settling around Bucky’s wrist, pulling him towards the couch. “She wouldn’t stop laughing, even after we left the place.”

“If that’s the case,” Bucky says, letting Steve pull him down onto the chair and letting his tail flow out in front of him. “Then she likes you.”

“I don’t know if that’s reassuring,” Steve says as he reaches out, puts his hand on Bucky’s tail as if he can’t bear to not be touching. Bucky moves then, turns, pushing the boundaries of what’s acceptable by draping his tail in Steve’s lap.

Steve gapes at him, dumbfounded, but Bucky shrugs, flicks the fin to send a current through the water, hitting Steve lightly in the face with it. Steve looks at his tail, then looks at him, then looks down at his hands. Then, finally, puts his hands on the scales waiting for his touch.

“Humans aren’t usually this… tactile,” Steve says after a moment of silence, hands stroking over a patch of scales before going over the same spot with the blunt edges of his nails. “Is it a Mer thing?”

Bucky shrugs, closed his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Steve’s face. “Not really.”

A beat of silence. “Is it a Bucky thing, then?” Steve asks, and Bucky can’t help but smile a little, pressing it to the back of the couch, hiding it but not.

“More often than not,” Bucky says. “I get it from my mother, apparently.”

“Your mother the Queen?” Steve asks, curious, and Bucky realises what he’s said far too late. He’s not about to lie to Steve, though.

“She was never Queen of the Mer,” Bucky says. “She would never have been accepted by the council.”

He can see Steve’s mind whirring, can see the thoughts ticking away. “She was human?” he asks after a moment, but Bucky shakes his head.

“Worse, I think, in the council’s eyes.”

“How does it get worse than a human?” Steve asks, sounding amused. But when Bucky glances over there is nothing but curiosity on his face.

Bucky shrugs a shoulder, hums quietly, lets Steve feel the soft prickle of power held within that single note. “Could be a Siren,” he says, and Steve goes very still next to him.

“The lore we have,” Steve says eventually, though he still hasn’t relaxed. “Uses the term siren and mermaid interchangeably.”

“They’re different,” Bucky replies. “Most of your stories are about them, not about Mer.” When Steve tips his head to look at him, he shrugs. “They live closer to nature than we do, have different abilities because of it. The ocean is more… malleable with their abilities.”

Finally, Steve’s hands take up their gentle strokes again, back and forth along the scales under them. “Your mother was a Siren?” He confirms, and Bucky nods. “How’d you end up on the throne then?”

Bucky shrugs. “My father was King. He had no other heir, and I’d proven myself several times over by the time he abdicated. I haven’t given the council any reason to have me removed since then. Even if they don’t approve of me, there’s not much they can do.”

Steve’s silent again for a long moment. “Is that why you can shift underwater?” He asks, perceptive, and Bucky nods with a little jerk of his chin.

“Yes. Mer can’t unless they’re dry. It’s one of the few things I got from her side.”

“What are the others?” Steve asks and Bucky just looks at him for a moment. There’s no harm in it, he decides eventually.

“I can Sing, to a degree. Not as strong as a Siren, but enough to achieve what I need. I can still convince the water to do my bidding, I can still make people forget things, convince people to my side. A few other things, but none are really that important,” he adds with a little shrug.

“Have you ever… on me?” Steve asks, hesitant, but Bucky shakes his head immediately.

“No. I haven’t. I don’t like using it if I can achieve things through other means.”

Steve’s quiet again, thoughtful. “Will you Sing for me?” He asks after a second, making Bucky’s eyes widen for a second.

Then, Bucky sighs, soft, tipping forward slowly until his forehead rests on Steve’s shoulder. “I won’t make you do something you don’t want to, but… maybe one day,” he says, the softest denial he can offer Steve.

**

There’s quiet between them for a long while, but eventually Steve’s fingers run over the gold on Bucky’s arms. He’s surprised it’s taken so long for Steve to do something about it, honestly.

“You’re the only one with these,” he says softly, and Bucky nods, leaves his head on Steve’s shoulder. “Tattoos?”

“Yes,” Bucky says after a second. “I was given them on my twenty-first birthday,” he continues, not really wanting to go into it further, not wanting to dredge up those memories.

“You didn’t have a choice?” Steve asks next, and Bucky curses him internally for being so perceptive. The hand on his skin moves, brushes over the gold on his ribs.

Bucky sighs, resigning himself to the conversation, not willing to shut Steve’s curiosity down. “Not really. I was heir, it was proper. I needed to be recognised even if I wasn’t wearing anything else to signify my station.”

“It seems inconvenient,” Steve says, and his fingers are on Bucky’s shoulder, tracing the lines down his chest. “If you needed to hide.”

Bucky snorts, but holds himself still, lets Steve explore them. He’s familiar with the feel of them now, raised scarring where the gold has fused into his skin, the smooth feel of the ink everywhere else. “An oversight really, but no kingdom expects to be attacked. Not when our biggest threat haven’t worked out we’re here.”

Steve’s hand pauses on a particularly jagged scar, perfectly hidden by the gold. “How do they do it?”

“You don’t want details,” Bucky says shortly, before closing his mouth with a snap. “It’s not like the human process. Gold doesn’t sit as nicely as ink does in skin.”

“There’s gold in this? Real gold?”

“Mm” Bucky responds, dropping his chin to look Steve in the eye. Then Steve’s fingers are on his face, tracing the thin lines around his eyes. Realisation dawns on him then, and Bucky watches the horror flicker over his face before it’s tamped down fast. “Turns out a crafter can weave it into skin easier than a needle through leather. Bit harder when the recipient is also able to craft but that’s not a problem for long.”

Steve’s hand, pressing flat against his cheek. His thumb brushes over Bucky’s cheekbone, and Bucky sighs, can’t help but lean into the comfort his touch is offering.

**

When Steve turns to face him and gives him the saddest little smile, Bucky knows he’s done for. Anything Steve asks of him, anything at all, and Bucky would fall ass over head to do it for him, he realises at that moment.

“I need to know where to take you,” Bucky says softly, letting himself drift closer in the water. Steve’s hand comes up, fingers curling around Bucky’s wrist. The left one, not that Steve’s ever shied away from the abnormality of it. “It doesn’t have to be where you were heading, just… somewhere that isn’t the middle of nowhere. Somewhere you’ll be safe.”

Steve hesitates. Bucky can see it in his eyes, he wants to say something, but there’s something holding him back. Then, an exhale. “What if I don’t want to go back?”

“Steve,” Bucky starts, voice breaking just a little. “What I gave you, it’s only temporary,” he says, grasping onto that instead of admitting how much he doesn’t want Steve to go either.

“One more day,” Steve says, voice tight. “Tomorrow I’ll tell you where, I’ll go without a fuss, just. Tomorrow. Please.”

He’s not begging, not by the way he says it, but bargaining, like he’s got something waiting up his sleeve. Which he probably does. His grip tightens just a little on Bucky’s wrist, just enough for him to feel the pressure.

“One more day,” Bucky agrees. He can’t deny Steve anything in that moment, least of all this. “Then I have to. You have to.” He trails off at the look on Steve’s face. “What did you want to do?” He asks, needing to know what he can do to make sure Steve gets what he wants.

Steve’s grip tightens a little, and he tugs Bucky closer. Bucky’s helpless to deny him, lets himself be pulled in until they’re nearly nose to nose. Steve’s eyes are unreadable, steady on his.

“If I’m reading this wrong,” Steve says, quiet, careful, like he’s thinking about each word before he lets it escape his lips. Lips Bucky can’t help but stare at, nearly turning himself cross-eyed, before he looks back up again. “Tell me.”

“You’re not,” Bucky gets out after a second, realising he has to answer, that Steve’s waiting for him to.

Steve closes the distance between them fast, but when his lips meet Bucky’s they’re soft, coaxing. Bucky threads his fingers into Steve’s hair, letting him control the kiss and just holding on for the ride.

Steve pulls back after a second, just a little, quirks a smile. “This okay?” He breathes, and Bucky can’t help but smile back, crinkling at the corners when he feels the gentle touch of a finger on his lower lip.

Bucky doesn’t bother speaking, doesn’t want to displace that finger, just hums his assent before pressing the tip of his tongue to the pad of Steve’s finger. Steve’s eyes darken and Bucky smiles wider, tipping his head a little until Steve’s finger slips into his mouth, just a little. Just enough.

Steve gasps a little, watching Bucky’s mouth as his free hand falls to Bucky’s waist, pulling him in tight. It slides around, down, Steve’s brow furrowing for a second before he huffs out an amused, “Tail.”

With a little hum of acknowledgement, Bucky finally lets Steve’s finger slide free before saying, “You forgot?” He doesn’t pull back, stays pressed in close as he lets his tail curl lazily around Steve’s legs.

“Kinda,” Steve says, cupping Bucky’s jaw, thumb tracing lightly over his cheek. “Don’t really notice it as anything other than part of you,” he adds, and Bucky drops his head, kisses him again, soft and quick.

“Right answer,” Bucky teases, before concentrating for a second, taking a deep breath as the shift ran through him. Steve gasps, a sharp breath in, and holds very still until Bucky’s moving, hooking his legs firmly around Steve’s waist.

Steve’s hand, now firmly on his ass, grips a little tighter, the scant bit of fabric Bucky’s wearing not doing much to dampen the warmth of Steve’s skin on his. “Too much?” Bucky asks, letting his weight settle on Steve’s hips, pressing a hand to Steve’s chest.

Steve doesn’t answer, not verbally. But Bucky can gather by the press of lips against his, insistent and demanding, that Steve doesn’t mind in the slightest. Bucky grins against Steve’s mouth then lets his lips part, lets Steve in to kiss him stupid.

It’s a long while before Steve pulls back a little, just enough to brush feather-light kisses over Bucky’s chin. Bucky can’t help the breathless little laugh that escapes him, dragging his hands over skin to rest on Steve’s shoulders.

“You were right,” Steve says after a minute of silence, grin making his face absolutely glow. At Bucky’s raised eyebrow, he trails his other hand down to join it’s pair on Bucky’s ass, lifts Bucky up a little before letting his weight settle back on his hips. “Nothing shifts with you.”

Bucky snorts and wiggles his hips a little. “Glad you noticed,” he replies, letting one hand drop to pluck at the scrap of fabric protecting what little dignity he has left. Steve’s eyes drop down at that, his head tilting, and Bucky takes advantage, leaning up a tiny bit and closing his teeth lightly around Steve’s earlobe. “So,” he says, breathing the words into Steve’s ear. “Was that all you wanted to do?”

Steve’s laugh is breathless like he knows exactly what Bucky’s getting at, though to be fair, the way Bucky’s legs tighten around him isn’t exactly subtle. Steve’s hands tighten where they are, and Bucky grins against Steve’s cheek.

“Not all of it,” Steve finally says, taking one step, two. After so long getting used to the near-weightlessness of water, it’s like he’s trying to teach himself to walk again as Bucky’s weight keeps his feet on the floor.

Bucky smiles again, hooking his feet a little higher around Steve’s waist. “Gonna tell me the rest?” he asks after Steve’s silent for a moment longer than expected, tucking his fingers back into Steve’s hair and playing with it.

When Steve shakes his head slightly Bucky pulls his head back to look at him, raising an eyebrow instead of saying anything. “I’ll show you instead,” Steve says, perfectly timed with the press of something at Bucky’s back. It gives way as Bucky glances over his shoulder, realises it’s the door, realises that Steve’s walking him into his room.

With a flick of his foot, Bucky closes the door behind Steve, mouthing along Steve’s jaw as he does. He nips, light, then pulls back just enough to rub his nose against Steve’s cheek.

“Is that so?” he replies, voice dropping as Steve reaches his destination. He holds on a little tighter, takes his own weight as Steve puts a hand down to brace himself, and gets a knee up onto the bed.

While Bucky’s not paying attention to him Steve’s head drops, and Bucky lets out a gasp as he feels lips against his jaw, slowly trailing down his throat. “Yup,” he says absently, and Bucky can’t help the shiver as Steve’s mouth brushes his skin, teasing, then makes its way down to Bucky’s collar, dusting over the lines etched in gold.

“I think,” Bucky says, voice more breathless than he’s expecting. He pauses as Steve slowly lowers him down, let go to push himself up the bed a little. He reaches out, catching Steve’s shoulder, and pulls lightly, demand and invitation rolled into one. “I think,” he tries again, “That you should get on with it.”

Steve moves faster than Bucky expects, wedging his body between Bucky’s legs and leaning over him. Before Bucky can comment Steve’s hands are on his thighs, hooking his legs up as he moves in for another kiss.

Bucky gives him what he wants, curling his legs around Steve’s waist as he tips his head into the kiss, nipping at Steve’s lip in a sharp little bite before rubbing his thumb against the spot in the moments before their lips slide together. Bucky puts the slightest amount of pressure on his finger and Steve’s mouth opens in invitation.

He has the distinct feeling Steve’s _letting_ him have the little bit of control he’s got, and that feeling is proven true as Steve pulls back, one hand cupping Bucky’s thigh. It slowly slides up as Steve watches him, and Bucky tries to push himself up for another kiss, but Steve shifts his hips, stopping him.

“Hold on,” Steve says at Bucky’s annoyed grumble, his thumb stroking back and forth against sensitive skin almost managing to distract Bucky completely. “I gotta ask you something.”

“Get on with it,” Bucky says, trying to sound grumpy and missing by a mile. He pouts at Steve’s little smile, nips Steve’s chin in retaliation.

Steve takes a breath, and Bucky can feel the skin under his hands heating up a little as Steve turns a little pink. “Do you have any…” he starts, trails off as his fingers finally make it to Bucky’s ass. He grips, kneads for a second, then his fingers are rubbing lightly at Bucky’s tailbone.

Even with that, it takes Bucky a minute to match Steve’s question to his action, all the while Steve gets a little redder, blush staining his cheeks and spreading down. “I’ve never been with a human,” Bucky says, stroking a hand down Steve’s chest, tracking the blush down. “I thought you’d be blunter.”

“I’ll show you blunt,” Steve mumbles under his breath, and Bucky laughs, sharp and surprised. “Have you got anything slick? Even if it was an option I’m not about to use spit.”

With a nod, Bucky wiggles his hips a little until Steve’s loosens his grip enough to let him turn to his side. He fumbles his way through the basket beside his bed before pulling out a sealed jar. He presses it into Steve’s outstretched hand, grinning at Steve’s surprise. “Of course it’s weighted,” Bucky says as he wiggles himself back into place, leans up, and kisses Steve’s jaw. “Can’t have things floating away.”

Steve snorts as he sits back on his heels, hand dropping to his pants. Bucky stretches out in front of him, hands above his head before he props himself up on one elbow and gets a hand on Steve’s stomach. Steve’s skin is warm, warmer than the water around them, and Bucky can’t help but dig his fingers in a little before sliding them up. “I nearly swallowed my tongue when you gave up on your shirt,” Bucky says, and Steve’s hands still on his fly, knuckles brushing Bucky’s thighs. When Steve looks up at him, he’s amused, and Bucky raises an eyebrow, daring him to argue.

“I’m surrounded by guards, Mer in their prime, and yet I couldn’t stop staring at you.” Bucky finally pulls himself up, gets both of his hands on Steve’s chest, stroking skin lightly. Steve hadn’t flinched away from his left hand before, doesn’t now, just lets out a low groan as Bucky’s fingers catch on his nipples.

He’s concentrating so hard on the miles of skin under his hands that Steve moving catches him by surprise, sends him reeling back as he no longer has Steve to balance on. Bucky catches himself on his elbows, pouts, and Steve looks more amused than he should as he gets his pants off one leg, then the other.

Bucky’s eyes drop, and he pouts a little harder when he sees Steve still has underwear on. “What is even the point of this,” he mumbles, fingers catching on the hem of the fabric before he starts shoving it down. “Just gets in the way,” he continues as Steve laughs over him.

Steve isn’t laughing so much when Bucky twists to his front, turning to press his mouth to Steve’s stomach. The muscles under his lips jump, tremble, and Bucky grins against his skin as he gets the offending bit of fabric to Steve’s knees. He drops his head a little more, kisses the edge of Steve’s hip, the line of muscle leading him to where he wants to go.

He nuzzles his way down it, rubbing his lips, his jaw, against Steve’s skin, then sets his teeth into Steve’s skin, bites lightly. Steve’s hands land in his hair, not pushing, and as they thread through the strands Bucky pulls back slightly, gets a look at what Steve’s offering.

If they weren’t underwater his mouth would be watering, that’s for sure. Steve’s not fully hard yet, still getting there, but his cock is already more than a mouthful, and just looking at it makes something in Bucky’s stomach swoop. “Can I?” He asks, checking, licking his lips as he gets closer, lips only a fraction of an inch away from Steve’s thickening cock. “Please?”

“Go on,” Steve says, voice a little more strained than it had been a few minutes earlier. “If you want it.”

Bucky doesn’t reply directly, just hums in the back of his throat and lets his tongue flick out, dragging over the head of Steve’s cock before he drops his head, nuzzles his lips against it. It jumps against his mouth and Bucky grins, presses a kiss to the side before shifting his weight. He gets a hand up, his right, and rests his hand against Steve’s thigh before sliding it up, curling his fingers around Steve’s length.

Steve’s tense, breath jumping at every touch, and he groans as Bucky finally wraps his lips around the head of his cock. His hands tighten in Bucky’s hair, sending a shiver down Bucky’s spine, but Steve doesn’t push, doesn’t demand, just holds on.

Bucky absolutely takes advantage, sucking lightly before pulling back, ever the tease. He licks his way down the length, back up. Teases his tongue along the slit before wrapping his lips around the head again, and Steve’s still so patient, so gentle. So Bucky rewards him, letting his mouth slide down, getting halfway before pulling up, then taking as much as he could fit.

He’d been right earlier, it’s more than a mouthful, more than he could even think to fit in his mouth, but the way Steve’s breathing turns ragged, little sounds escaping like he’s trying so hard to be quiet, make it worth it. The way Steve’s fingers tighten in his hair, not guiding, just holding, the way Steve’s hips keep twitching in aborted little movements, the way his stomach flexes under Bucky’s hand, it’s all more than worth it for Bucky. With each passing breath, he’s getting harder in Bucky’s mouth, pushing a little further back, and _God_ but Bucky has no idea how it’s going to fit, but he’s sure he’s going to enjoy working it out.

He pulls back a little, lets the tip of Steve’s cock rest on his tongue, and looks up at Steve before pushing upwards, pinning Steve’s cock to his stomach. He hooks his thumb over it to keep it in place, then licks his way up it, up Steve’s chest, getting himself right in close as he nips at Steve’s jaw, the corner of his mouth.

Steve finally, _finally_ snaps, grabbing at Bucky’s hips tight, muscling Bucky up and onto his back on the bed. “Fuck,” he gets out, breathless, and Bucky’s about to retort when Steve kisses him, filthy, tongue sliding in like Steve owns the place.

Bucky hooks his heels over Steve’s hips, digs them into the meat of Steve’s ass, and Steve responds with a slow grind that has Bucky gasping into his mouth, knees squeezing a little tighter than he’d intended to. Steve doesn’t seem to mind by the way his hips twitch and he grinds again, slow and steady.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Steve says against his lips, voice scratchy. “Shit, where…” he shoots a hand out, fumbles around until he finds the jar Bucky had given him before he sits back a little. Bucky goes to follow, pushes himself up before Steve’s hand is pressing him back down. He stares, not sure what Steve’s planning, then there are lips against his throat, slowly ambling their way down.

Bucky arches his back, demanding, but Steve doesn’t move any faster, teeth digging into Bucky’s skin before he licks over Bucky’s nipple. He shivers, fingers tangling in Steve’s hair, and tugs until Steve’s head pops up. He’s amused, clearly, smirk hanging off his lips like it can’t bear to be parted from Bucky’s skin.

“What?” Steve says when Bucky just looks at him.

Bucky strokes his fingers through Steve’s hair before saying “Get on with it.” 

Steve snorts and proceeds to do the complete opposite. As his mouth presses against Bucky’s skin again, only slightly lower than it had been, Bucky digs his heels into Steve’s ass, rolling his hips up. Steve’s responding groan is muffled so Bucky does it again, and again.

Steve’s breathing gets ragged but he maintains his pace somehow, kissing and nipping down Bucky’s stomach. He focuses on a spot when the first brush of his mouth makes Bucky shiver, just under a streak of gold, and Bucky can feel himself sagging, accepting it, taking what he’s given. He’s not sure how Steve’s doing this, not in the slightest, but when Steve’s hand slides off his skin to go for the lube, Bucky just sighs, squeezes his legs slightly around Steve.

His breath hitches, and he moans without realising it. Steve’s fingers, sure, slide against his hole as his mouth brushes ever so lightly over Bucky’s cock. His hips twitch unconsciously and Steve smiles, pressing the tip of a finger into him as the head of Bucky’s cock slips into his mouth. Bucky’s mouth opens, but before he can say anything Steve sucks lightly, leaving the words strangled in Bucky’s throat. Steve snorts out a laugh, pressing his finger deeper as Bucky’s attention focuses on the pressure, on the wet warmth of Steve’s mouth.

“Shit,” Bucky says on a gasp, finally getting something out, and Steve hums in response. The vibrations have his toes curling, back arching a little as they run through his cock. He doesn’t realise Steve’s finger has slid deeper until Steve curls it, getting Bucky moaning again.

He focuses on it, on the slick slide of Steve’s finger, and when a second finger nudges at his hole he’s nodding without noticing, mumbling, “yes, _yes_ ,” under his breath as he holds on for dear life. Steve’s doing the same stuff that he’s done to himself many a time before, but somehow it’s more real, more overwhelming this way, and Bucky’s struggling to process it.

Steve’s mouth slides deeper as he edges the second finger in, and Bucky groans, feeling himself go soft at the edges.

By the time Steve nips his hip, sharp, Steve’s got three in him, steadily thrusting them deep.

“There you are,” Steve says, purrs, and Bucky groans softly in the back of his throat. “Feel good?”

“You have to ask?” Bucky manages, tongue thick in his mouth, fumbling with his words, and Steve licks his cock before he can say anything more. When Steve curls his fingers it almost feels like he’s making a point, and Bucky’s head lolls back, fingers going slack in Steve’s hair.

“You want it?” Steve says, leaving his hand right where it is but kissing his way back up Bucky’s stomach in half the time he’d taken to get down there. Bucky doesn’t try making his mouth work again, just nods, arching up into Steve as Steve kisses him deep. He gets one hand on Steve’s shoulder, grips tight, and it takes Steve’s gasp for him to realise it’s his left.

But, Steve doesn’t seem all that deterred by it, hips flexing as his cock jumps against Bucky’s. So, Bucky does it again, scrapes his fingertips against Steve’s skin, and Steve groans low in his throat.

“Do you have- anything?” Steve asks as he sits up straight, hooks Bucky’s legs over his thighs. It takes Bucky a minute to work out what Steve’s talking about, and then a further few seconds to make the words come out.

“No, they don’t… behave well in water.”

Steve snorts, and Bucky’s eyes catch on Steve’s face, the flex of his jaw as Steve grinds his teeth. “I’m clean,” he says, hands not making a move for the lube at Bucky’s side, even as his cock jumps against his stomach.

“We don’t… catch human things,” Bucky says, wiggling his hips. “Your choice.”

Steve huffs out a breath, then grabs the lube, jaw tensing in ways that made Bucky drool as Steve slicks himself up.

“Please,” Bucky says, breathy as he can muster, and Steve shifts, leans forward as he lines himself up.

Blunt pressure and then Steve’s kissing him, distracting him with little flicks of his tongue as his cock edges in, slides in deep. Bucky’s knees tighten on Steve’s waist, breath shaky as Steve lets up for a minute before his lips are on Bucky’s again, and it’s good, it’s so good, it’s overwhelming and Bucky gives up control to Steve, relaxes under him and around him as Steve smiles against his mouth.

Bucky hitches his hips up a little, takes a little more, and Steve shivers under his hands like he’s struggling to keep still. As Steve breaks the kiss, gasps in a ragged breath, Bucky mumbles, _begs_ , “Please,” against Steve’s lips.

The hand on his hip tightens, and Bucky shifts his hips, testing Steve’s grip before a soft moan escapes him. “Good?” Steve asks, and it doesn’t sound cocky, genuinely asking, so Bucky nods.

“Better if you moved,” he gets out, and it’s supposed to be teasing but just sounds desperate. Bucky isn’t at all ashamed, not with Steve’s dick in his ass, Steve’s mouth on his. As much as he wants Steve, Steve probably wants him back.

Steve seems to take the criticism to heart, hips drawing back in a smooth glide that leaves Bucky empty. Then he’s pressing back in at the same pace, slowly and steadily filling Bucky up again. “You feel so good,” Steve says, breathes against Bucky’s cheek as he repeats the action, again and again as he gets into a steady rhythm.

Bucky can’t reply, doesn’t even try to, just lets his head fall back as Steve rocks into him, a moan escaping him between hitching breaths. He can’t think, isn’t sure he wants to, just holds on, digs his heels in against Steve’s ass.

Steve takes his own sweet time, though Bucky hadn’t really expected anything different, but it almost feels like no time at all has passed when Steve’s thrusts get a little harder, a little faster, when Steve’s breath gets a little sharper against his cheek. Then, out of nowhere, Steve sits up, hands gripping tight at Bucky’s hips.

He thrusts in, doesn’t pull out, grinds in deeper still, and it pushes a moan out of Bucky, surprised, as his cock jerks, heat spreading through him. Steve does it again without pulling out and Bucky’s toes curl, sparks flying under his eyelids as his eyes jam shut, Steve finding his target.

As everything begins to twist up inside him, tension growing in his stomach, Steve starts to talk, a low rumble of words that run through Bucky like nothing he’d ever dreamed of. “You’re so good,” Steve purrs, and it _is_ a purr, low and rumbling and just the right side of sweet. “You feel so good, you like it? This what you want?”

He keeps talking, Bucky barely paying attention to what he’s saying, caught up in the sound of Steve’s voice, the roll of his hips. It’s so much, too much, almost, but when Steve curls down, catching Bucky’s mouth in a kiss as he grinds in tight, Bucky can’t help it.

He comes with a shudder, tension bursting apart and rolling through him like a wave. He moans into Steve’s mouth, mouth going slack, and Steve pulls back enough to gasp as Bucky shudders under him.

Bucky doesn’t remember much after that if he’s honest. He remembers a low noise from Steve, hands tightening on his hips. He remembers Steve stilling, warm, draped over him like his own personal blanket. He remembers whimpering as Steve pulls back, clinging with arms and legs as Steve laughs at him, ragged. He remembers the press of Steve’s hand, the laughter that went along with it.

He remembers coming back to himself with his head on Steve’s chest, cradled in close. Steve’s scratching fingers through his hair and it’s nice, it’s so nice. He stretches his legs before hitching one up over Steve’s legs and Steve’s hand doesn’t still, though it slows a little.

“Hi,” he murmurs and Bucky replies by mumbling unintelligibly into Steve’s chest. “Try again?” Steve says next, and Bucky shakes his head, huffing out a sigh. “You back with me?” Steve tries, and Bucky nods slightly as his fingers find a smooth patch of skin on Steve’s chest.

“Feel good?” Steve asks next, and Bucky gives a self-satisfied little hum in response, making Steve laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Bucky’s hand crawls up, petting over Steve’s skin before he gets an idea and starts to walk it down Steve’s stomach.

Steve’s hand is wrapped around his wrist after a few finger-steps and Bucky’s rolling onto his back with a laugh as Steve looms over him. Steve’s far less menacing than he’s obviously trying to be, so Bucky reaches up, threads his free fingers through Steve’s hair, kissing him slowly even as Steve pins his hand to the bed near his head.

“Cheeky little shit,” Steve says as they part, fondness creeping into his voice. Bucky just smiles in response.

**

It’s harder than Bucky realises to let Steve go the next day.

Steve’s all smiles, but they don’t quite reach his eyes, and he just looks sad whenever he doesn’t realise Bucky’s looking. Once they’re dressed Bucky takes him out into the ocean, further, beyond where he’s ever gone before, and still they’re swimming. And then, quietly, at his side, Steve murmurs, “Here.”

Bucky stops, turns to see Steve a few paces back, and doubles back to join him. He’s not sure how far he can push, now that they’re out in the open, but Steve catches his wrist, pulls him in close.

“I know this water,” Steve says quietly. “We would dive down here a lot while training. It’s so much nicer without all the other trainees,” he adds, smiling, and Bucky can’t help himself, cups Steve’s cheek lightly. Steve leans into the touch, so Bucky counts that as a win.

“The beach you mentioned, it’s close isn’t it?” Bucky asks after a moment.

Steve hesitates, then nods. “Different direction now, but yeah, not far.”

“Are you ready?” Bucky asks, letting himself float a little closer until his shoulders brush Steve’s. “It’ll be weird, being on land again,” he adds, skirting the thing he actually wants to say. “Take a bit of getting used to.”

Steve shrugs, just the tiniest twitch of his shoulder. “Something else I have to get used to first,” he says, before sighing. “C’mon.”

Bucky watches Steve swim for a minute before pushing himself off after him, catching up easily before slowing to Steve’s speed.

It isn’t far, Steve’s right on that count. After a few minutes of swimming the sea floor starts to rise, coming to greet them like a long lost friend. Bucky reaches out a hand, brushing it over the sand as the light around them shifts, gets brighter. All too soon Steve’s changing direction, kicking off the gently sloping bottom and bursting into the air above the water.

Bucky follows, reluctantly, and curls his hand around Steve’s ankle, tugs lightly before surfacing next to him.

Steve’s looking over his shoulder so Bucky turns to look, gasps quietly. “Is that,” he starts, stops, takes a deep breath as air starts to fill his lungs like it’d never left. “Is that where you live?”

The city is sprawling, that’s the only word for it. It spreads  across the land, skips across the water, then takes up residence again on the other side. Steve’s hand slides around his waist, familiar, and pulls him back before pointing off into the distance.

“Can you see,” Steve says, breath fanning over Bucky’s ear, making him shiver. “In the distance, the tops of buildings?” At Bucky’s nod, Steve continues, staying right where he is. Bucky’s not sure if he’s upset about it. “That’s the very bottom of Manhattan. When people talk about New York City, they usually mean Manhattan.”

Bucky tips his head to look at Steve. “Why? Is the city a different place?”

“Oh,” Steve says, shakes his head a little. “No, Manhattan is just one part of the city. It’s just the most famous part. Just next to it, this whole area, that’s Brooklyn. That’s where I live. My house though, you can’t see it from here, is closer to Manhattan though.”

Despite what Steve said Bucky cranes his neck, tries to catch a glimpse of something, anything. “The buildings aren’t quite as tall,” Steve says with a smile. So you won’t see it over this bit,” he waves a hand towards the land on their right.

“What’s that?” Bucky asks, looking to their left.

“Staten Island,” Steve says. “That’s where we’re going.”

“Why? You live over there?” Bucky says, pointing towards the land Steve called Brooklyn.

“Because,” Steve replies patiently, “There’s a lot of people in Brooklyn. The beaches are quieter over here, so it’s less likely we’ll be seen.”

“Oh.”

Steve hums in acknowledgement before letting his arm slide free, leaving Bucky bereft. He starts to swim to shore, above water, and Bucky can’t help but watch, until Steve stops, turns his head, gives Bucky an amused look.

“C’mon,” he calls back and Bucky sighs, then starts to swim after him.

It’s far less efficient, is the first thing Bucky notices, not having swum for long above water – without something in his arms, at least. He’d assumed that it had been Steve’s weight, back when he’d rescued Steve, but it hadn’t been – not entirely.

But they make it, sand meeting Bucky’s feet not long after, Steve pushing upright and Bucky following. The beach is deserted apart from a lonely gull, pecking at something a handful of yards away. Then, finally, they’re free of the water, despite the final waves clinging to Bucky’s armoured ankles, calling him back.

Steve staggers, not used to bearing his own weight again, and Bucky catches him by the arm, keeping him steady for a minute. The moment stretches into two, three, then Steve is straightening, turning to face Bucky, and. And.

He looks ridiculous, hair plastered to his forehead, clothes hanging, dripping, but Bucky can’t help himself, steps forward into Steve’s space. He cups Steve’s jaw, gentle, and when Steve doesn’t pull away, he tips Steve’s head down.

“Remember what I said,” Bucky starts as Steve goes still under his hands. “About the gift I gave you?” His chest hurts, aches, and he can’t work out why. Like something’s pulling tight, collapsing at the same time.

“Yes,” Steve replies, eyes closing for a second before he focuses on Bucky again. “You said it was temporary. And you said that you would take it back the same way you gave it.”

Bucky nods a little, just a little. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “That it has to be this way. At least for now.” Steve’s jaw clenches under his hands, his breath hitches, but Bucky just strokes his thumbs over Steve’s cheeks.

“I’ll come back if you want me to,” he says before he can think twice. “Once a decision’s been made, once we’re allowed to be… seen.”

Steve moves then, head tipping forward even further, forehead resting against Bucky’s. “I want you to,” he replies quickly. “Be fast, I already miss-” a hesitation, a breath out. “I already miss you.”

Bucky can’t help himself then, presses their lips together, knowing this will likely be the last time. As much as he’d like to promise Steve, it is a big city. Steve had said so himself. Finding Steve again would be almost impossible.

He kisses Steve, deep, Gives Steve everything, before his eyes close, and from somewhere deep in his throat, he hums a single note.

Steve gasps and Bucky feels his gift returning to him, tastes something other than Steve on his tongue. Steve’s arms wrap around his waist, tight, and Bucky sags into them, breaking the kiss with a soft noise. He kisses Steve’s shoulder, quick. Then his neck, then his jaw, before pulling back with just enough force that Steve lets him go.

“Buck…” Steve says, breathless, quiet between them.

“Steve,” he replies, before giving him a sad little smile. “Goodbye.”

He walks backwards, one step, two. The water calling him back, like always, but an echo of that day. It hurts, more than he expected.

He walks backwards, and Steve watches, expressionless.

He walks backwards, and just as the water starts to wind it’s way up Bucky’s legs, Steve starts to move. One foot forward, then the other, staccato steps as Bucky holds his breath. Then Steve’s picking up the pace, crossing the distance between them, and Bucky _can’t_ let him. He knows, knows that as soon as Steve touches him he’s gone, as soon as Steve’s hands are on his skin he won’t be able to let go again.

So he does the one thing he’d promised himself he’d never do to Steve without permission, does the only thing he can do. Bucky opens his mouth, takes a breath, and starts to Sing.

The first note is almost rusty, grating through it, Bucky unused to using this part of his voice on land. A handful of notes in, and Steve’s steps are slowing, eyes glazing over just a little bit. Bucky keeps moving backwards as Steve falls still, the water curling around his thighs, then his waist, jumping up higher, pulling him back.

There’s something on Steve’s face that Bucky can see despite the distance, something that looks a lot like longing, and Bucky’s voice wavers. Steve manages to take a step forward, though Bucky can see he’s not entirely sure why he’s done it.

Bucky keeps up the Song, asking, begging Steve to stay where he is, and as it trails off, in the last moments before the water covers his head, Bucky sees Steve lurch forward, then fall to his knees like his strings have been cut.

**

Bucky returns to the city alone, like he knew he would, like he’d planned to. Nat is waiting for him by his window, and as she hears him approach she turns, surprise flickering across her face before she masks it.

“I didn’t think you’d go through with it,” she says after a moment, letting Bucky brush past. Bucky snorts quietly, pulls himself through his window, starts to strip the heavy gold armour off his body.

“If he hates me, he won’t miss me,” Bucky says, hopes. He hates himself for the words that fall from his mouth, the admission of guilt that pours out of him before Natasha can even ask. “He wasn’t going to let me go. I had to… make him.”

Nat stares at him for a second, then shakes her head, letting out a sigh. “You’re an idiot,” she says, and Bucky nearly snaps at her for it. He doesn’t ask her why, just rubs his hands over the soft pants he wore under the armour.

“You don’t understand.” He says instead, pushing himself through the water towards his room before freezing, hand gripping the doorjamb. Memories flicker past his eyelids as he screws his eyes shut, and he shoves himself away, pulling himself down onto the couch instead. The couch is safe, the couch doesn’t still look like Steve might appear on it from one blink to the next. The couch is _safe_.

“Understand what?’ Nat replies as she perches herself on the end of the couch, tail flicking against his legs. “That you were stupid enough to let him go?”

Bucky scowls, shoots her a glare. “A king must place his country before himself in all matters,” he says as he buries his face in his forearm. “My people, our people, need me more than I want him.”

“What use to them is a depressed king?” She asks then, placing a hand on his leg. Her fingers are warm, but Steve had been warmer, almost burning hot even through fabric. Bucky swallows.

“I’m not going to place my happiness above their wellbeing,” he mumbles into his arm. “We need to prepare for the convergence, prepare for any outcome. That’s the most important thing here.”

“Idiot,” Nat says, and this time it’s sharper. Bucky looks up. “Don’t you realise that you could have both?”

She stands, leaves without another word, but sends an almost pitying look over her shoulder at him. Bucky stares after her, struggling to work out what she could mean.

In the end, he doesn’t get a chance, the familiar face of Primus Fury appearing in the window, forcing his mind back to the never-ending business of his city, and his people.

**

In the end, it’s almost anticlimactic.

One by one, the leaders of the clans rise, cast their vote, then return to their place. One by one, the tallies for the _yes_ side grow, the _no_ side standing bare.

Bucky watches each leader, many familiar, some not, as they move forward, speak with the weight of their clans. The Melusina first, piercing blue eyes weighing up each member of the Convergence before speaking, voice clear, soft. Then the Selkie, projecting their voice into the heads of every member as their seal body shimmers with magic. Then the Kelpie, the Nereid, the Morgen, the Siren. One after the other, _yes, yes, yes,_ and then it’s Bucky’s turn. He rises, last of them, youngest of them, and all eyes turn to him. The vote needs to be unanimous, but Bucky doesn’t know what will happen next. He doesn’t know, and he’s scared, but it’s not enough to stop him breathing in, then speaking on the exhale.

“Yes.”

**

The arguments happen after the agreements, as is always the case when you get a handful of strong-willed leaders in a room, united by a common cause but otherwise entirely looking out for their own people.

But eventually, decisions are made. Some have human contacts, and Bucky’s mind immediately goes to Steve before he shakes it away, pushes Steve out of his mind. Press conferences are agreed upon, demonstrations, a unified day is chosen. Locations, then, scattered around the world, across continents and across countries, their people banding together to show the humans they aren’t alone.

The Mer, with their city in the Atlantic, they get the US, and Bucky’s about to refuse when Fury puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, firm. Bucky bites his tongue, agrees, but when asked for a location, points to somewhere well south of where Steve could possibly be. “The capital,” he says, tapping his fingers on the stone map. “There are areas we can work with, bodies of water we can use to our advantage.”

It is agreed, finally. Day after day of talks, of arguments, finally smoothed over. Bucky leaves, his small entourage close on his tail, with one thing on his mind.

It’s almost time for the humans to know.

**

The ache starts up three days after he returns. In a moment of downtime, Bucky’s staring at maps, willing his mind to take in all of this new information, when something curls up in his chest, withering. He absently rubs at the spot, somewhere over his heart, but it builds until he can’t take it anymore, nails digging into the skin as he tries to give himself something else to focus on.

It’s bone deep, full like something’s taken up residence there and simultaneously empty of what he needs to be there, and he curls into himself, presses his forehead to the cool stone desk in front of him. The crystal on his desk hums like it’s scolding him.

A knock on the door, too sharp to be Fury, and Bucky tries to pull himself together enough to answer. He must say something because the door opens, familiar red hair floating through before its owner.

Nat takes one look at him, then her face falls, and Bucky realises he must not have done a very good job after all.

“I miss him,” he says, quiet, and Nat comes to him, cradles his face in her palms before pulling him into a tight hug. He lets her, holds her tight, speaking against her shoulder. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“Go find him,” she says like it’s the obvious answer, but Bucky shakes his head. Part of him is glad that she hasn’t brought up the fact that he was only around Steve for three days.

“Not yet. It’s not ready yet. _We’re_ not ready yet.”

Nat pulls back slightly, raising an eyebrow at him, but he catches her wrist with one hand. “If. _If_ he wants to stay, I want to be able to give him that choice. I can’t yet. Not until… well.” He waves a hand down at the maps in front of him. “Until this is sorted. Until he’s not risking anything, I’m not risking anything, by him being here.”

Nat sighs, but he can tell she accepts his point. “We better get everything into place then,” She says with a little smile. “So when the time comes, he can’t possibly say no.”

She’s gone before he can reply, and Bucky sighs, glancing out the window after her as his hand rests on the crystal, feeds it even as he takes from it. Before he can stop himself he’s out of his seat, pulling himself out the window opposite to the one Nat left through.

He feels like he’s a kid again, sneaking out when he’s got so much to do, so much to plan, but he goes anyway, telling himself it’s just to clear his head.

He keeps telling himself that as he swims, ignoring the fact that he’s swimming a familiar path, that he’s going out further than he would, further than he _should_. He tells himself it’s healthy, that he needs the break, even as the waters change, and he pushes towards the surface with a clump of sand in one hand.

When Bucky does break the surface he keeps himself low, only his eyes above water as he observes the water around him.

He’s where his heart has lead him, despite his mind’s protests, the glint and glimmer of the city somehow toned down without Steve there to make sense of them. Without looking at the beach, the place he left Steve, he sinks under the surface again, swimming deeper into the harbour.

Manhattan on the left, Brooklyn on the right, just like Steve told him. He swims, feels the waters change, cool, and he falls still again, staying near the bottom. The water above him is churning like there’s a boat out on the water, so Bucky stays where he is, points himself in the general direction of Brooklyn, and sighs.

“I miss you,” he says into the empty water around him. “I miss you, and I’m sorry.”

The water, predictably, doesn’t answer, even on Steve’s behalf.

He stays where he is for a little longer, letting the gentle current of the river push him back and forth before he finally turns himself towards home.

**

It becomes almost a habit, swimming out to Steve’s city. He tries to think of it as _New York_ but it doesn’t quite sink in. Honestly, he doesn’t care all that much about the city itself, just one person that’s walking its streets.

First once a week, then two. By the time a month has passed he’s reached three times, ache in his chest just growing with each passing day. It’s not enough, coming here, not in the slightest. But it helps, in some sort of depressing way. He comes all the way out here, drifting closer and closer to land, and just talks. He talks about how things are going, how their plans are progressing. He talks to himself but addresses everything to Steve.

He’s coping, kind of.

One day, it’s different. It _feels_ different, though nothing has changed from his last visit. He sees boats moving above him, the water stirring in their wake.

But.

Something’s calling him, pulling him closer to the surface, and against his better judgement, he finds himself pushing up off the bottom, feet sending sand swirling through the water.

There’s a boat above him, but it’s not like other boats. It’s still when most are powering past on their way to some other place. There’s nothing hanging from it, no fine strips of thread that only show if you’re looking closely. No fish swarming around it, clamouring for the privilege of being caught. It’s just… still.

As he gets higher, he can hear the faintest sounds from the boat, footsteps pulsing through the water. The murmur of voices, next, indistinguishable, but there.

And then, as he gets close enough to rest his fingers against the hull, he hears something that he’d know anywhere, something that calls to him like nothing else, every part of him drawn to it.

“ _I thought it’d help.”_

The voice is muffled by the water, by the layers of metal lining the ship’s hull. Still, though distorted, he’d know that voice anywhere.

“Steve,” he says on a sigh, the word escaping him before he can think. He jams his mouth shut, but there’s no way he could have been heard even had Steve’s companion not been talking.

_“Ripping the band-aid, man. It always stings at first.”_

Bucky presses his hand to the hull of the boat, closing his eyes. He can’t help himself, swaying forward as Steve speaks until his forehead rests against the cool metal.

 _“I don’t know if I want to pull it off,”_ Steve replies, and there are footsteps above him. Bucky glances up, eyes opening, but he’s out of sight, the boat too wide for him to be seen. _“It sounds so fucking pathetic but it’s like something’s missing, y’know?”_

 _“No, I don’t,”_ Steve’s friend says, and Bucky frowns to himself, trying to work out what’s actually happening. Steve’s oath would have stopped him from speaking about what he’d seen, and it sounded like he’d managed to say something about his time under the water. But not enough.

 _“You haven’t told me anything, and – don’t’ give me that look I know you said you can’t – but this guy, he really got to you?”_ Steve doesn’t say anything, but he must have done something because the other man kept talking. _“Then why don’t you go back? Corner him, let him know how you feel, all that sappy shit.”_

There’s a snort, and Bucky can’t help himself, slowly pulling himself towards the back of the boat, glinting blades of the engine lying still as the boat floated there.

 _“Just… trust me when I say I can’t,”_ Steve says, as Bucky surfaces quietly at the rear of the boat.

“You keep saying that,” Steve’s friend says, voice clear now that Bucky’s surfaced. He sounds exasperated, fond. “But I can’t see what the problem is. You know where he is, you know how to get to him, just… go.”

“Do you think I’d still be kicking myself here if I could?” Steve replies, and now that Bucky’s above water it hits him a little harder. There’s a sad note in Steve’s voice, he’s tired, but just hearing him knits something back together in Bucky’s chest.  “No offence but like… If I could I’d have dragged him back here already. But I can’t.”

Steve’s voice breaks on the last word, and Bucky’s moving before he even realises he’s made a decision. He closes his hands over the edge of the boat and carefully, carefully pulls himself up.

As soon as his head clears the side of the boat his eyes are seeking Steve out, latching on and drinking him in.

Steve and his friend are facing away, leaning against the front railing of the boat, and it doesn’t look like they’ve even noticed the rocking that Bucky’s caused. Bucky hauls himself the rest of the way up, and his armoured feet make the softest clink as they touch the floor of the boat.

Steve doesn’t react, but his friend straightens, starts to turn. Bucky holds his breath, realising what he’s done all too late.

Bucky’s just pulled himself to his full height, water still dripping off him, as Steve’s friend leans back and says loudly, “What the actual _fucking_ Christ.”

“Sam,” Steve says without turning, “If you’re going to tell me you’ve knocked something overboard I’m not going to be impressed.”

Steve’s friend, Sam, is still staring, mouth opening and closing like he’s struggling to find words. Bucky takes it upon himself, slowly dropping himself down to sit on the edge of the boat. “What if something’s come on board instead?” he says, heart in his throat.

At the first word, Steve stiffens, spine snapping straight like he’s been shocked. Bucky can see the knuckles of Steve’s hands turn white on the railing, and doesn’t say anything more until Steve’s started to turn.

“Hi,” he says as Steve finally faces him, and there’s a split second where he’s not sure if he’s made the right decision before Steve is all but throwing himself across the distance. Steve’s arms curl around him and Bucky can’t help but laugh as he’s knocked backwards, overbalancing and dragging them both into the water.

Bucky kicks his feet once, twice, and they’re breaking the surface again. His arms are locked tight around Steve, and Steve doesn’t seem like he’s letting go any time soon, pressing kiss after kiss over Bucky’s face.

Steve says, “I’m mad at you,” before kissing him properly, and he’s instantly slotting himself back into the void in Bucky’s chest, settling in like he’d always been there.

“Steve, the _fuck_?” Sam says above them, and Bucky can’t help but laugh as Steve pulls back, looking guilty.

“I can explain,” Steve says before holding a hand out towards the boat. Bucky diligently paddles them closer, until Steve can get a hand on the rail, start to pull himself back on board.

Sam just stares at them both, disbelieving, so Bucky waves, until he realises he’s using the wrong hand and quickly drops it. Once Steve is out of the water Bucky follows, a soft hum convincing the water to give him a boost up.

“Cheat,” Steve says without looking, scrubbing a towel over his head as Sam looks between them, more confused than he’d been before.

Bucky keeps his left arm close to his body, out of the way, and holds out his other hand, catching the hem of Steve’s shirt. “Idiot, you’re soaked now,” he says as he perched himself back on the edge of the boat.

When Sam just kept looking between the two of them, Bucky realises that waiting for Steve to talk is like waiting for the sea to behave – an exercise in frustration, given that Steve is oath-bound and couldn’t _actually_ say anything even remotely resembling an explanation.

“He actually can’t explain,” Bucky starts, and Steve shoots him a look as if to say _and who’s fault is that_. “He took an oath not to. I’m Bucky, the one who rescued Steve when his dumb ass got himself knocked overboard.”

“That explains… a lot,” Sam says, leaning against the boat’s small cabin. “You’re not like us, are you?” He asks, and Steve gives Sam a wry smile.

“No,” Bucky responds, not willing to lie. “I’m not.”

Steve’s finally emerged from the towel and he’s inching closer to Bucky like he’s not sure he’s allowed, so Bucky pats the spot next to him in invitation. Steve sits, and their knees knock together lightly, and out of the corner of Bucky’s eyes he can see Steve turning a little pink when Sam gives him a look.

“What are you?” Sam asks bluntly, and Steve hides his face in his palms with a groan. Bucky pats Steve’s knee lightly, smiling a little at Sam’s direct question.

“That’s up for debate,” he replies, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Humans call my kind all sorts of things, and it changes from tale to tale. We go by the term Mer.”

Sam looks at him dubiously for a second. “Not sirens?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Sirens are different. My mother is a Siren, they’re most definitely not the same.”

“Why do you have legs?” Is the next question. A reasonable one, really.

“Because I want them. Tails aren’t all too practical on dry land.”

“What’s with your arm?”

As much as Bucky doesn’t like answering that question, he took a breath and gave an abbreviated version of it. “I voluntarily let one of our crafters practice on me when I was younger. It didn’t turn out so well.”

Steve interrupts then, voice quiet, but Bucky’s attention turns to him immediately. “How did you know we’d be here? How did you find us?”

Bucky snorts. “Believe it or not, it was dumb luck.” At the raised eyebrows sent his way, he shrugs. “I’ve been coming out this way a lot lately. Your boat was still but didn’t have any fishing lines, so I was curious.”

“You thought you’d just jump on board a random boat?” Steve almost sounds bitter, and Bucky can’t help himself, curling his fingers around Steve’s wrist.

“No. I heard you talking. Couldn’t just leave after that.”

If Steve had been pink before, it has nothing on the shade he’s turning, and Bucky bites his lip to hold back a laugh as Sam doesn’t even try, laughing loud and clear.

“You heard us?” Steve mumbles and Bucky nods, rubbing his thumb over Steve’s hand. “How much did you hear?”

Bucky gives him a wry little smile, glancing at Sam before telling the truth. “Enough to know I’d made a mistake.”

“Damn right you did,” Steve mumbles, leaning his shoulder into Bucky’s. “I’d push you overboard if that’d achieve anything.”

Bucky sighs. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I had to do what was best for my people.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Sam says, “The crown isn’t just some weird mermaid aesthetic thing, is it?”

Bucky shakes his head, goes to answer when Sam turns to Steve.

“All the men on land and you had to go find a mermaid king, I can’t believe you,” Sam says, rubbing his temples.

Bucky can’t help but laugh at Steve’s wry expression. “Trust me, Sam, I can’t believe it either.”

As they continue to talk, Bucky can feel Steve inching closer, so he reaches out a hand and lightly rests it on Steve’s back. When Steve just sags into him, Bucky goes all in, curling his arm around Steve’s waist as Sam rolls his eyes at the both of them. Steve’s still pink, right to the tip of his ears, but Bucky doesn’t say anything, just keeps answering the questions being sent his way.

It’s not until it starts to get dark that Steve pulls back, looking mildly embarrassed. “You said that there was going to be a vote on whether you’d reveal yourself to humans,” he says quietly, and at Bucky’s nod he asks, “Has that happened yet?”

Bucky nods again, sending a smile Sam’s way at his surprised expression. “Yeah, it has, and yeah, we’re going to. I can’t give any details out, but a date’s been set.”

“Does that mean…” Steve starts, hesitates, then shakes his head. “Never mind. Were there any problems? That old asshole giving you any grief?”

Bucky snorts, rubbing his hand up Steve’s side lightly. “When is he not causing trouble, honestly. But this is the will of the Convergence, and there’s nothing he can do about that.” He glances up then, notes the colour of the sky, sighs. “I should return before I’m missed.”

Steve’s grip on him tightens, and while Sam looks like he has more questions than he started with, he hooks a thumb over his shoulder then walks to the other side of the boat to give them a moment. Not that it affords them much privacy, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Do you have to?” Steve asks quietly, not letting go, and Bucky brings his left hand up to brush over Steve’s cheek.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I do. It’s the one thing I don’t want to do right now.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Steve says after a moment’s hesitation, and Bucky cups Steve’s jaw, tilts him up to brush a soft kiss over his lips. “I thought that was it,” Steve continues as their lips part.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Bucky says softly. “That was never what I planned. I didn’t expect...” he trails off, the _to start falling for you_ sitting on his tongue, not escaping.

“Then why did you?”

Ouch.

Bucky shakes his head slightly, before giving Steve a wry smile. “I had to put my people before my own wants,” he starts. “I didn’t expect it to hurt this much.”

“You’re an idiot, Bucky Barnes,” Steve says, and Bucky can’t help but laugh. “Will you come back this time?”

“I came back this time,” Bucky says, but when Steve gives him a look he settles. “Yeah. I’ll tell you what. We’ll set a date - we’ve been living off the human calendar for decades now, so there’ll be no confusion. We’ll set a date, and I’ll meet you on the beach, there,” he points back to shore, the beach where he can only assume Steve and Sam had launched the boat from.

“Okay,” Steve says, biting back something else to do it. “What date?”

Bucky does a quick count. “Ten days from now. The twenty-ninth. In the evening, six.”

Steve blinks at him, then gives him a little smile, pokes a finger against Bucky’s shoulder lightly. It’s his left, but Steve’s never been one to shy away from it. “That’s pretty specific, but okay. Twenty-ninth. You better be here.”

Bucky opens his mouth when Steve cuts him off, pressing a finger against his lips. “And,” Steve says sharply. “Promise me you won’t force me to do anything again. Even if you have a reason, promise me.”

Bucky doesn’t hesitate, says “I promise,” against Steve’s finger as soon as he stops talking. “I’m sorry,” he says again, but he doesn’t try to defend himself, his reasons. Steve doesn’t like it, so he won’t do it again. “I’ll be here.”

Steve nods, sharp, like he’s proving something to himself, then he’s leaning in, and Bucky can’t help it. He lets his hands tighten on Steve’s waist, pulls him in tight as Steve’s lips press against his. The kiss is soft still, gentle, but Bucky lets the heat of Steve’s body sink into him, warm him from the inside out. It’d have to last a while, he rationalises to himself, so he might as well.

Steve smiles against his mouth, and that makes it worthwhile, then. The waiting, all of it, as long as Steve’s happy. And, _shit_ , he’s in deep, so much deeper than he thought but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Okay,” Steve says, lips brushing Bucky’s as he speaks. “Okay. You have to go. If you don’t, I’m gonna be a lot less likely to let go,” He adds, and his eyes crinkle up as he smiles. Bucky kisses him again, soft, then steps back, watches Steve blink a few times.

“Bye Sam,” he calls, and Steve’s friend turns lifts a hand in farewell. “It was nice meeting you.”

Then Bucky’s stepping over the side of the boat with one last look at Steve, and he’s still smiling when he reaches home.

**

The twenty-eighth arrives.

Bucky’s struggling to keep his mind on what he has to do, and away from Steve, but it’s difficult in the worst ways. The struggle does keep his mind off the clothes he’s wearing, uncomfortable fabric rubbing against his skin. Sometimes he hates being one of the more charismatic members of the Convergence, and this is one of those times, with all eyes on him, all pressure on him to butter up one of the most powerful countries in the world.

The day is long. Press conference after press conference, city air drying his skin, sharpening his eyes. Lingering stares, dragging over his arm like they don’t think he’s noticed, or don’t, frankly, care.

Prodding and pushing and camera flashes and talking and screaming, and it’s all too much, but somehow he keeps going. Lets himself be plastered all over the news, lets everyone know his face, lets everyone see him, and part of him hopes that the one person he _wants_ will see too.

Then again, Steve’s probably watching. The whole damned world is watching now.

Things settle. Meetings are set with the humans, between the clans, with leaders of almost every country. Discussions on everything from currency to technology sharing to visitation rights is scheduled in, and Bucky knows it’s going to be a long, drawn-out affair. But, he hopes, worth it.

Bucky doesn’t go home that night, put up in some fancy hotel in Washington DC, and all the fabric is making his skin itch. If it’s not clothes it’s bedsheets, towels, anything and everything humans use to cover themselves on a daily basis. Bucky’s not sure how they stand it.

As soon as he’s alone, he’s stripping down to his underwear, another weird layer he doesn’t entirely see the point of, but it’s useful now, just in case someone walks in. He leans on the balcony of his room, too high for true comfort, and looks out over the city.

It’s too far to see, but he finds himself looking for the ocean. He can see the hints of a river winding through the city from where he is, but the ocean herself is too far away for even a glimpse. Just buildings upon buildings, leading off into the distance. Despite the fact that Nat’s in the room next door, he’s never felt so alone.

There’s a knock on the door, and he knows it’s Nat, goes over and unlocks the door without a thought. She comes in, draped in silks, and looks him up and down before rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“Ten minutes and you’re nearly naked, really?” She says with an amused shake of her head, and Bucky shrugs, goes back out to the balcony.

“No one can see me. And it’s not like you’d be any different if you had nothing to wear but _pants_ ,” he grumbles, looking at her outfit. It’s more robe than dress, but she’d probably fit in if she had to walk the streets in it. “What do human men have against skirts?” He continues as Nat laughs at him, sprawling over his sofa like she owns it.

“I don’t know,” she replies, legs kicking into the air. His eyes are drawn to them, to their novelty, having never seen her out of water before. They make her look… strange, for lack of a better word. He’s not used to it, he supposes. He blinks as he realises she’s still talking, and she gives him a droll look over her shoulder.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she teases, and Bucky shrugs.

“Like you’re a weirdo napping on my couch?” he says, snickering. “It’s weird seeing you with legs. When was the last time you were on land?”

She shrugs, and that’s an answer in itself really. “It’s been a while. I’m glad the fashion’s changed, no one is trying to get me to wear skirts to my ankles,” she adds, and he snorts out a laugh.

“You’re not the only one,” he says, closing the balcony doors behind him on the way to the other sofa. “Half the Councillors look so….. wrong on land.”

Nat snorts, shoving the throw pillows around until she’s comfy. “That’s not what you really want to talk about,” she says with a grin. “And it’s not why I came here. You said you’re disappearing tomorrow, that have anything to do with the smile you’ve been sporting for the past couple of weeks?”

Bucky shrugs, the smile in question creeping across his face as he ducks his head. “A little, yeah,” he mumbles.

“Anything to do with you-know-who?” She asks, and his smile just grows as he looks up at her.

She stares for a moment, then crows out a laugh, slapping the pillow in front of her lightly. “Ha! I knew it! Where are you meeting him?”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at her glee. “In New York,” he starts, but she cuts him off.

“The city or the state?” When he gives her an annoyed look, she shrugs. “Hey, it’s important to some humans! We might as well try to get it right!”

Bucky rolls his eyes, then says, “City. He lives in Brooklyn, that’s where I found him again, so that’s where we’re meeting.”

“When?”

When Bucky just raises his eyebrow, she rolls her eyes.

“When tomorrow? It’s not the longest swim, but it’s still a half-day away.”

“Oh,” Bucky shrugs a little. “Evening. Six. Gives me time to get there even if we’d gone home tonight.”

Nat hums. “So you’re ditching us all so you can go get some?” At Bucky’s spluttering, Nat grins, shakes her head. “Joking, Joking. There’s nothing on tomorrow, other than being gawked at. You’re fine. Just make sure you’re back _before_ the meeting with the President, I don’t think he’ll be inclined to wait around so you can go grovel your way back into Steve’s good graces.”

Bucky shakes his head in exasperation, then sighs at her grin. “Okay, you win.”

“Don’t forget to take your armour,” she adds, and he gives her a droll look. “As much as I’m sure he’ll appreciate you in a suit, it’ll be hard to swim in.”

**

Bucky slips out of the hotel before dawn, hands bundled in his pockets, head down so as not to draw attention. The city is already moving, people bushing past him on the street, cars at every light, but the walk to the river isn’t all too long. He only gets stopped twice, a smitten looking woman and a reporter asking for pictures, one after the other, so he gives them his best smile, moves on as soon as he can.

The sun is just starting to hit the water by the time he reaches their cache point, lockboxes guarded by a bored-looking Mer. He looks surprised to see Bucky, snaps upright and salutes Bucky before he can react, so he just smiles, brushes past. “Morning,” he says, and hears a stuttered response before he adds, “You’re doing a good job out here, make sure you get something warm to eat when you rotate out.”

He’s moving before the guard can reply, down the flight of stairs and into the cache itself. It looks inconspicuous, which is kind of the point. Crates lined up in rows, just enough room to walk between them. Bucky heads for the one in the corner, furthest from the exit, and pops it open. He swipes his finger across the scanner on the second lid, and once it beeps out an affirmative, he’s pulling it open.

It only takes him a few minutes to don his armour, suit and coat getting shoved in the box in its place. He locks up, heads out another door, and down to a small boat launch onto the river.

The water feels like home when he slips in, and he can’t help the relieved noise he makes once he takes a breath in. It’s not the same as the ocean, not in the slightest, but it’s water, it’s _safe_ , and he basks in it for a moment before getting on with it.

He arrives early, finding a quiet place to surface before heading along the beach. There are still a few people around even though there’s a cool wind blowing, and they all stare as he passes. He can’t help but wave at a few people, getting a stunned sort of wave in response, but, as he gets closer to their meeting spot, he realises Steve’s already beaten him there.

“You’re early,” he says as soon as he’s close, and Steve’s head jerks up, phone almost falling from his hand. Then, his face lights up and he’s standing, running the few steps to meet Bucky.

“I knew you were planning something,” Steve says after a minute, mumbling into Bucky’s shoulder. “You asshole, I thought it was ages away.”

Bucky grins into Steve’s hair, hugs him tight. “Like I’d ruin the surprise,” he says with a snort. “I’m a king, of course I can keep a secret.” Steve hits his hip lightly in response, then smooths a hand down Bucky’s side, warm, gentle.

“People are staring,” Steve mumbles, lips against Bucky’s skin. Bucky sighs in response, swaying them from side to side lightly. “Have people been staring a lot?”

“More when I’m in this getup,” Bucky says as he drags a hand up Steve’s back, runs it up through Steve’s hair, making a mess of the carefully combed strands. “When I’m dressed like one of you they don’t usually realise until I’ve passed.”

Steve just hums in response, grips Bucky a little tighter, so Bucky doesn’t say anything more. He just holds Steve, presses soft kisses to Steve’s hair. Eventually, Steve lifts his head, brushes Bucky’s hair off his face with a gentle hand. “Did you have something planned for this?” Steve asks, and Bucky shakes his head.

“I just wanted to see you, didn’t really think any further ahead,” he replies, and Steve grins like that’s the answer he’s waiting for. Before Bucky can ask Steve takes a step back, grabbing Bucky’s hand and giving him a little tug.

“Okay,” Steve says as Bucky follows, leading the way further onto land. “I brought my car, I want to show you something.”

Bucky follows, powerless to do anything else, eyes skimming Steve’s body as Steve leads the way up to a parking lot. The car Steve stops at is sleek, that’s for sure. Low to the ground, black, and it looks damned fast.

“Get in,” Steve says with a smile, and Bucky looks down at himself. Because sure his armour is good for swimming, but he’s still more than a little wet, and he doubts that whatever the seats are made of will agree with the sharper edges of the metal.

“I don’t want to ruin your seats,” Bucky responds and the look Steve gives him is priceless.

“I finally get a chance to show you my city and you’re worried about my car seats?” Steve says, incredulous note in his voice. “What the hell,” he adds, tone shifting into more amused waters before he’s opening a door on his side, fishing around. A towel hits Bucky in the face a few seconds later. “Dry off, then put that on the seat before you sit if you’re that worried,” Steve says, leaning on the roof of the car and watching Bucky over it.

Bucky takes his time, wiping the worst of the water off his skin and making sure the plating on his legs is completely dry as Steve watches him before he opens the car door. He carefully lays out the towel as Steve climbs in, then slides in himself, making sure none of the armour touches the seat fabric.

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve says as Bucky fumbles with the seatbelt. “How many times have you been in a car?”

“Enough to know an expensive one when I see one,” Bucky gripes back, finally winning his battle with the strap and clipping it in.

“Okay,” Steve says, ignoring the jibe, “I’ll take you past mine and see if there’s anything that’ll fit you,” he finishes as Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I might be enjoying the view, but you’ll stick out like a sore thumb and people will get in the way.”

Sure, that’s it. Bucky doesn’t protest, just brushes his fingers over the back of Steve’s hand before leaving him to drive. “Sure. Take me home.”

Steve goes pink at that, but keeps his mouth shut as he puts the car into gear and pulls out of the lot.

All too quickly Bucky is distracted by the machine, fingers stroking the panelling on the door, across the dashboard. “It’s so quiet,” he murmurs, and Steve shoots him a smile. “Cars are supposed to be loud, stinky things,” he adds, pitch raising slightly in askance.

“This is new,” Steve says. “Electric, so it’s quiet and doesn’t burn fuel like normal cars.” He smiles wider at Bucky’s wondering little huff and seems to be content with silence as Bucky presses buttons, works out the screen between the seats.

As they slow to a stop, Bucky glances up, a smile curling his lips. “It’s gorgeous,” he says as Steve turns off the car, leaving it parked in the street. “You live here?”

Steve nods at one of the houses in the row, and as Bucky catches up he reaches out, curling his fingers into Steve’s waiting hand. “Yeah. Let’s get you into something warmer.”

They get a few looks on the street as cars pass, slowing down to gawk, but Steve seems unfazed, just keeps walking, doesn’t even turn his head at the honk of a horn. People walking are harder to ignore, but whenever they look like they’re about to say something Bucky levels them with a look, and they think twice about it.

They make it to Steve’s building without incident, Steve unlocking the front door with a clatter before pulling Bucky inside.

He’s not sure what he expected, but the small entryway wasn’t it. There’s a hall table that Steve dumps his keys on and tiles that his armour is clinking against, but otherwise, it’s fairly bare. Steve keeps hold of his hand, pulls him through a door, and Bucky goes without complaint, wanting to see more of Steve’s home.

He gets a brief glimpse of a living room curling around a corner before Steve’s tugging him up a flight of stairs, then up a second. First door on the left, and Bucky’s falling still, surrounded by little things that are quintessentially _Steve_.

As Steve goes to the cupboard and begins to rummage Bucky makes his way to the desk, gently picking up a small carving. “It was a gift,” Steve says, and when Bucky glances over Steve isn’t even looking. “From Sam, when I officially retired.”

“Isn’t retiring for old people?” Bucky replies, rubbing his thumb over the stone before setting it back down in its place.

“Old of body, or old of heart,” Steve says cryptically, before straightening, throwing something.

Bucky fumbles the catch, gets hit in the face by soft fabric. “How kind,” he says, muffled by the clothing, and Steve’s laugh gets closer until there’s a hand on his waist. He grabs at the fabric, gets it out of the way, and smiles when he sees Steve looking at him. “What are you going to show me?” He asks, eyebrows going up.

Steve shakes his head, still smiling. “Not telling,” he says as he drops his head down, presses his lips to Bucky’s.

Bucky sinks into the kiss, can’t help it really, leans in and sighs into Steve’s mouth as Steve gives him what he hadn’t known he’d been wanting.

It ends all too soon though, a flick of Steve’s tongue against his lips and then Steve’s pulling back. At Bucky’s pout, he shakes his head, pats the wad of fabric in Bucky’s hand. Bucky looks down, then sighs, starting to shake it out. He’d do what he had to, honestly, though he doubts that he’d dislike whatever Steve is going to show him.

He doesn’t bother hiding anything, because it’s not like Steve _hasn’t_ seen it before.  So, with Steve just a step away, Bucky drops his hands and starts undoing the fastenings on the plate. Steve goes pink again, backs up and sits on the bed, and Bucky gives him a smile as the first pieces of metal give way.

The fastenings are all second nature now so it takes him no time at all to get it all off, carefully setting each piece on the bed next to Steve before moving on to the next. By the time he’s stripped off all the metal, Steve has inched closer, almost sliding off the bed and taking all of the armour with him. Bucky takes pity, steps closer, cups Steve’s cheek lightly.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay like this?” He asks with a grin, and Steve blinks up at him before taking a deep breath, shaking his head.

“You look _too_ good,” Steve admits, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to whatever skin has caught his eye. Bucky feels the brush against his ribs, smiles softly as he drags fingers through Steve’s hair. “I don’t want people looking at you like this.”

“Jealous?” Bucky says, and Steve snorts.

“You have no idea,” is the mumbled reply against his skin, and Bucky tugs on Steve’s hair lightly, pulls him back to look Steve in the eye. “At least I’m self-aware,” Steve finishes, then pats Bucky’s stomach lightly, more likely than not trying to cop a feel.

Not that he needs an excuse.

“Hurry up,” Steve says when Bucky doesn’t move, so he sighs, strokes his fingers through Steve’s hair once more, then peels out of the smooth pants he wears under the armour.

“Of course you’re commando,” Steve comments, and Bucky looks down, shrugs when he realises what Steve must mean.

“Underwear is pointless, and shows up under those pants,” Bucky says as he tugs on the pants Steve gave him. The material is unfamiliar, heavy in his hands, yet somehow still more soft than Bucky’s expecting once he has them on. “What is this stuff?” He asks, having seen people wear it but never actually put it together with the name of a clothing item.

“Denim,” Steve says, looking like he’s been hit in the face with something overly large. “Those are jeans, specifically. Denim is the fabric. And underwear isn’t pointless when it’s hot and everything is sticking in places it shouldn’t.” His hands end up on Bucky’s hips and Bucky doesn’t protest, just grabs the other item off the bed and pulls it over his head once he finds the appropriately sized holes.

“How do I look?” He asks, smoothing down the fabric. Steve swallows, hard. Bucky can’t help but smile at that, pleased he still has an effect on Steve even when covered up.

“Uhh,” Steve says intelligently and Bucky grins wider. He tips himself forward a little, kisses Steve’s forehead, and when Steve tips his head up Bucky brushes a kiss over his mouth, too. “You look good,” Steve gets out then, hands winding up on Bucky’s hips.

When Steve lifts up a little, looking for more, Bucky smiles and pulls back a bit. “You wanted to go somewhere,” he reminds Steve. “I doubt it’s open forever.”

Steve scowls in response, but pats Bucky’s hips lightly, asking to be let up. Bucky moves, and Steve carefully stands, catching a piece of plate that slips off the bed. “Does this need to be put up?” He asks, holding the metal up so it catches the light before gently setting it back where it had been.

Shaking his head, Bucky steps back, grabbing Steve’s free hand. “Nah, It’s fine like that.” He couldn’t hide the excitement in his voice as Steve let himself be towed towards the door. “Wait,” Bucky says, looking at his feet. “I need shoes.”

Steve snorts, nudging past before leading the way to the hall cupboard and handing him a pair of boots. Then they were out the door, Bucky sliding cautiously back into Steve’s far-too-fancy car.

“Where are you taking me?” He asks as soon as Steve’s in and starting the car up. “Can’t be too fancy,” he adds, glancing down at himself.

“I’m sure you could walk into the fanciest place in New York City and be accepted because of your face,” Steve says then pauses. “Wait that came out wrong.”

“You think people will let me in because I’m attractive?” Bucky asks gleefully as Steve shakes his head, sighs. “Aw, that’s sweet of you.”

“I’ll throw you out of the car,” Steve threatens, deadpan, even as his cheeks turn pink. “People know who you are now. A King can walk into any store and get top rate service even if he’s wearing a sack.”

Bucky lets that one go, still grinning at Steve, and prompts him again. “So… where?”

“You’ll see,” is the cryptic reply.

**

“Your car… has a see-through roof.”

Steve glances up for a second, smiling, then focuses back on driving as Bucky stares up in wonder. “It does,” he says, and Bucky cranes his neck further, watching the massive, lit up building for as long as possible before it disappears out of his field of view.

“What was that?” He asks, pointing back, knowing Steve will know what he meant. “It’s massive!”

“Empire State Building,” Steve says as the flow of traffic takes them further up. Bucky looks ahead, notices an oddly empty area they seem to be heading for. “It’s one of the most famous buildings in the city.”

“Can people go up there? The view must be amazing,” Bucky says, leaning forward, squinting as he tries to make out what’s ahead of them.

He saw Steve nodding out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, people wait for hours to get up there, it’s really popular.”

“I want to. Someday, not now, but I want to,” Bucky says, before sighing. “Where are we going?”

“Bucky,” Steve says instead of answering. “I want to show you something, but If I tell you it’ll ruin it. Just… trust me okay?”

They slow at a traffic light and Steve takes the opportunity to turn, look at Bucky with all-too-gentle eyes. Bucky sighs. “Fine,” he concedes, not at all unhappy, just making a fuss. “How much further.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Steve says instead of answering, pulling off the main road and down a short street that ends in a parking lot. “We’re here.”

Bucky’s out of the car before Steve’s even finished turning the machine off, bouncing on his toes a little as his curiosity gets to him. Before he can say anything Steve’s saying, “I’m coming, I’m coming,” in the most placating voice Bucky’s heard in a long time which makes him laugh.

“Sorry,” he says, walking around the car to meet Steve, part of him crowing with joy as Steve takes his hand. “I can be really… impatient.”

“I’ve seen,” Steve retorts, but twists his head, kisses Bucky’s cheek, so Bucky can’t be that upset with him.

After a minute of walking, they round a corner and Bucky can see the full size of the building they’re walking beside. There are flags hanging from posts on the walls, and the ebb and flow of people entering and leaving despite the later hour makes Bucky raise his eyebrows.

“Is that where we’re going?” Bucky asks, and Steve sighs.

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“The Met.”

“The what?”

Steve stops, turning on his heel on the marble steps leading up to the massive building. “I was about to ask you if you’d been living under a rock, but underwater is close enough. The Metropolitan Museum of Art. You mentioned wishing you knew more about human history, well, this place as a little bit of everything from all over the world.”

Bucky stares up at the building for a moment, computing, then tugs Steve’s hands, bounding his way up the stairs. “Why are we still out here then?” He demands as Steve laughs at him, lets himself be dragged up the steps.

“I thought kings were supposed to be patient, regal,” Steve says as Bucky finally slows down at the door, glancing back to make sure Steve’s keeping up. “There’s a bag check, and you have to walk through a metal detector. Your arm doesn’t have any metal in it right?” Steve adds, and Bucky looks at his hand, twisting it.

“Not that I know of,” he says before addressing Steve’s other comment. “The regal gene must have skipped me.”

He leaves Steve snickering at the doorway and walks through, the humming archway staying quiet as he passes. Then he’s moving, across the massive marble entryway to the statue of a woman. He’s staring up at it when Steve finally joins him, hand landing on Bucky’s back as he wedges himself between Bucky and another visitor. “Are they all like this?” Bucky asks, eyes not leaving the smooth marble in front of him.

“No, this is just one style, from one era. C’mon, we’ll start on this side,” Steve gently tugs, and Bucky lets himself be pulled backwards, following as Steve leads the way to the counter.

Then they’re through the archway, sticker tickling the ends of his hair, and Bucky’s looking around him in wonder before Steve yanks him out of the doorway with a laugh.

“C’mon. We have to move fast, we only have a few hours ‘til they close and there’s so much to see in here. I’ll take you to the most interesting areas, you tell me if you want to stop at anything we pass okay?”

Bucky nods, not sure where to look, before pulling Steve over to a massive piece of carved stone.

“This is Egyptian,” Steve says as Bucky looks, before pointing at the plaque. “They’ll explain things better than I can, but this stuff is some of the oldest stuff in this museum.” Bucky stares some more, moving as close as the little barriers will let him.

“There’s no glass,” he says, and Steve grabs his hand, tugs him back a step.

“Yeah but there are sensors. Put your hands too close and off go the alarms. So, don’t get too close.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, peering up at the ceiling, but Steve laughs and nudges him on.

**

If Bucky had to summarise what Steve showed him into a single word, he’d pick _incredible_. “Steve,” he says as they reluctantly leave, ushered out by the staff as they finish closing up. “Steve, I want to go back.”

Steve laughs, and it’s easy, so easy to let himself be pulled in again, wrapped up in a hug on the steps of The Met. “You’ll have to come see me again,” Steve says with a smile, and Bucky cups Steve’s face in his hands, kissing him softly.

“I was going to anyway,” he says, and Steve’s smile is almost blinding.

**

It’s late when they make it back to the beach, the city lights reflecting off the water and lighting up the area in a way that Bucky doesn’t have the words to describe. Steve’s reluctant, dragging his feet as they walk down the few steps from the parking lot.

Bucky knows the feeling, fingers clinging just a little bit tighter to Steve’s, steps slowing as soon as his boots hit the sand. “I think,” Bucky says into the quiet, feels Steve tense up behind him before relaxing again as he continues. “I think I’d rather stay. But I can’t, Nat would murder me.”

Steve laughs, quiet, and as soon as Bucky falls still Steve’s wrapping his arms around his waist, pressing his face into Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky scratches his fingers through Steve’s hair lightly, smiles as Steve shivers. “Really? What have you got on tomorrow?”

“Meeting your president,” Bucky says, and he has no idea how Steve reacts but there’s tension in the air before Steve relaxes. “I’d invite you but I don’t think we could get a suit sorted in time.”

“Wouldn’t want to meet him anyway,” Steve mumbles, and Bucky tips his head, raises an eyebrow at Steve. “He’s a prick.”

“For the best then,” Bucky says, rubbing one hand over Steve’s forearm. “Then we have to elect an am…” Bucky trails off, brows furrowing as he thinks before he twists in Steve’s arm, cups his face. “Steve,” he says seriously, and Steve goes very still, very quiet in his hands.

“Bucky,” Steve replies, mimicking Bucky’s tone.

“Steve I have an idea. But you have to promise me you’ll think about it before you say yes or no.”

“O..kay…” Steve says, face furrowing up. Bucky can’t help himself, presses a thumb to Steve’s forehead, gently smooths it out before lifting up on his toes and kissing Steve quickly.

“We have to elect an ambassador,” Bucky says, and Steve’s eyes widen a little bit as he catches on. “I could.. put your name forward.”

Steve opens his mouth, but Bucky stops him from talking by brushing his lips over Steve’s. “Wait. Hear me out. There’s more to it than you think.”

Steve huffs out a breath, but nods anyway, something in his eyes glinting.

“You’d be working _for_ your government,” he says, watching Steve’s face, “Working _with_ mine. What you’d be doing depends on what they expect of you, but you’d probably spend a lot of time in the city.” The _with me_ is unspoken, but Steve’s hands tighten on his hips. “We’re not easy to work with, not in the slightest,” Bucky adds to make Steve smile, and it works, gets him a kiss for his efforts.

“What about…” Steve starts, looking down at their hands, the way they’re still leaning into each other. “Us?”

“If,” Bucky starts, rushes to continue before Steve can think the worst, “If you want there to be an _us_ , I’ll bring it up from the start. Make it clear that it exists, and it won’t interfere with your work.”

Steve’s eyes are soft then, but when he shifts forward, bumps their noses together, he just says, “It won’t, will it?”

“Well,” Bucky says, grins as he leans forward. “If I’m in bed with you, I’m not off doing things like making decisions or declaring war. So, really, it’s helping the job.”

Steve snickers, ducking across the last of the distance and kissing him lightly. “Yes,” he murmurs against Bucky’s lips.

“Yes, what?” Bucky says right back, fingers sliding up into Steve’s hair. “We’ve covered quite a bit of gr-”

Steve kisses him to shut him up, and Bucky can’t really complain. “Yes, I want there to be an _us_.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, whispers almost. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

When Bucky kisses Steve this time he does it slow, teasing a reaction out of Steve as he kisses Steve for all he’s worth.

He doesn’t pull back until Steve nudges him back, breathless, and Bucky doesn’t want to stop, but he does. “Think about it,” Bucky says. “Call me tomorrow. Let me know. Either way I’ll probably be missing you,” he adds with a little smile.

“How?”

Bucky smiles. “I left the number for my hotel, my room, on your dresser. So you wouldn’t lose it,” he adds, smile widening as Steve slaps his shoulder.

“Prick,” Steve grumbles.

“Yours,” Bucky shoots back, and there’s not much arguing Steve can do there.

Bucky’s silent for a minute, before he sighs, presses his forehead to Steve’s. “I have to go,” he says quietly. “Call me?”

Steve’s responding “I will,” keeps him smiling the whole way back to Washington DC.

**

The phone in his room is ringing by the time he arrives, shrill little tones making Bucky groan as he pulls at his suit jacket, dumps it over the chair. There’s only a small handful of people who know the number, so he grabs it, answering crisply despite how tired he is.

“ _Hi,_ ” the voice says on the other end, and Bucky knows it in a moment. “ _I know you said think about it, and I have, so don’t yell at me okay?_ ”

“Steve,” Bucky says as he softens at the edges, smile tilting the corners of his mouth. “You home safe?”

“ _You swam to DC and you’re asking me if I’m safe?_ ” He sounds incredulous, and Bucky smiles, shifting the phone around so he can unbutton the lopsided shirt.

“The ocean isn’t all that dangerous to me,” Bucky says as he gets the damned fabric off. “But cars? Cars are always dangerous.”

“ _Fine,_ ” Steve says, amused, and Bucky’s glad the handset of the phone is wireless as he crosses over to the bed, flops down on it. “ _Home safe, no incidents, not even a red light._ ”

“You’d have run it anyway,” Bucky says with a snort, rolling onto his back. “You were saying?”

“ _What?_ ” His question leaves Steve floundering for a second, then he catches up. “ _Oh. I wanted to say yes to you, to your offer._ ”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks, frowning into the phone. “You’re not just doing it so you can get some on a regular basis?” The question is light, but Bucky’s serious, not wanting Steve to lock himself into something because it’s one way for them to be together.

“ _Yes I’m sure,_ ” Steve says and Bucky’s glad he doesn’t sound all too offended. “ _I think it’s a good option for me, steady work, with people I enjoy being around. Anyway, learning about your people isn’t exactly a hardship._ ”

“Working with us might be,” Bucky says as he closes his eyes, a smile touching his lips. “There’s no getting out once you’re in,” he adds. “It’s not like it’s a lifetime position, but you won’t be able to change your mind two months down the track.”

“ _I know,_ ” Steve says, easy as anything. “ _I want this. Sign me up_.”

**

Nat backs him immediately, completely unsurprised when he puts Steve’s name forward in the council meeting the next evening. If Fury is surprised he handles it well, and despite misgivings from people around the room, Steve is agreed on by a majority.

The President’s staff seem surprised when Bucky requests Steve, backtracking and scrambling to try and convince Bucky that one of their carefully groomed representatives would be better in the role. Eventually, they fold, giving in to Bucky’s request and seeing the positives behind it.

Then, Bucky’s leaving the city behind, making his way slowly towards New York City. His bag slows him down, but he makes it there with room to spare, changing in one of the bathrooms probably intended for beachgoers to wash themselves off at the end of a play in the sand.

It doesn’t take him long, walking the route Steve had driven him, bag slung over his shoulder, armour carefully wrapped inside it. He knocks on Steve’s door as the sun finally creeps itself over the horizon, and the expression on Steve’s face is worth the effort to make it there.

“You’re in a suit,” is the first thing out of Steve’s mouth, and Bucky grins wide, steps in a little closer.

“You’re predictable,” Bucky replies, placing a hand on Steve’s chest, nudging him backwards until Bucky’s in the building, can close the door with a flick of his heel.

“I didn’t think I’d see you so soon,” Steve says next, taking Bucky’s bag and setting it on the ground beside them as Bucky takes the opportunity to nudge his shoes off. Bucky smiles, uses his now-free hands to catch Steve’s hips, pull him in close.

“Well,” Bucky says once they’re nose to nose. “I had to give my new Ambassador a welcome-aboard gift.”

Steve kisses him then, short and sweet, smile absolutely glowing as he pulls back. “Really?”

Bucky hums, nods, lets his arms slide further around Steve’s waist, pulling him in until they’re hip to hip. “Yup,” he says, grinning. “The government-types need to meet with you still, sort out all the damned paperwork, but they agreed, knowing we were involved.”

Steve lets out a little noise that Bucky’s not sure how to categorise, but he’s moving, yelping a little as Steve’s arms wrap around him, haul him up off his feet. Bucky doesn’t bother struggling, just hooks his ankles behind Steve’s back, letting Steve kiss him.

“Do you want your present?” Bucky asks as Steve finally lets their mouths part, rubbing his nose against Steve’s.

Steve hums, distracted, so Bucky gives it to him anyway, presses his mouth to Steve’s again as he breathes out, steady.

Steve gasps and Bucky smiles against his lips, nipping Steve’s lower lip as he pulls back.

“You..?” Steve starts, staring at Bucky as he slowly lets Bucky slide down until he’s on his feet again.

“What kind of ambassador would you be if you couldn’t visit?” Bucky asks, brushing their noses together. “Not that it wasn’t going to be yours anyway. What kind of boyfriend would that make me?”

Steve smiles, blinding, holds Bucky that much closer. “Mine,” he says, and just when Bucky’s about to respond Steve leans in again, kisses him soft and sweet.

Bucky brushes his fingers over the back of Steve’s neck lightly before curling them in Steve’s hair, deepening the kiss just because he could.

“I think,” Steve says as Bucky lets his lips drift sideways, pressing kisses along his jaw. “I think we should celebrate.”

Bucky pauses, lips against Steve’s jaw, and settles his hands low on Steve’s hips as he says, “Oh? What are you thinking?”

Steve’s hands drop, cover Bucky’s before he nudges them back. Bucky grins, squeezes lightly as his hands end up square on Steve’s ass, then he lifts. Steve’s actions feel smug, somehow, as he hooks his ankles behind Bucky’s back, complete reverse of only a few minutes earlier.

“You’re heavy,” Bucky teases, hoisting Steve a little higher. “What do you land people eat?”

Steve decides to shut Bucky up by kissing him, which Bucky feels is fair given the circumstances. By the time Steve’s pulling back, breathing heavily, Bucky’s forgotten his question, and all others, and he doesn’t reply when Steve says, “Bedroom,” he just starts to walk.

He stumbles at the threshold of the bedroom, pressing Steve against the door to catch his balance before deciding to stay there a little longer. Bucky presses kisses over Steve’s throat as Steve’s head falls back, smiles against his skin when Steve’s fingers grip his hair, tug. He meanders his way back up to Steve’s mouth, grinning when Steve bites at his lip.

“C’mon,” Steve says and his voice is breathless, wanting. “Come _on_.”

With a snort Bucky straightens, carries Steve over to the bed, and instead of setting him on it he gets first one knee, then the other, onto the mattress without letting go. As Steve laughs Bucky lowers him down, pressing him into the sheets with a catty little smile.

Steve latches on, keeps his legs tight around Bucky’s hips, so Bucky takes the hint and stays right where he is as he drags his nails lightly up Steve’s sides. They trail under Steve’s shirt and he shivers, letting his arms fall to the pillow above his head. Bucky shimmies Steve’s shirt off him, fond little smile at Steve’s duck-down hair widening as Steve stretches out under him and nudges Bucky’s ass with a heel as if to say _get on with it_.

Bucky sits up a little, gets his own shirt off, and Steve’s hands are immediately on his sides, tracing over the tattoos there. His fingers are light, trailing over Bucky’s ribs, and Bucky can’t help but grin at him as he drops back down to his elbows, closing Steve in.

“So predictable,” he says, not that he’s complaining, and gets his mouth on Steve’s skin, right at his collarbone. He grazes his teeth over the spot, sucks lightly as he shifts his hips against Steve’s. As Steve nudges his heels Bucky does it again, rolling his hips in a slow, steady movement that has Steve’s head falling back.

“Want it like this, huh?” Bucky asks, voice already low, but when Steve shakes his head a little he pauses, lifts his head enough to look Steve in the eye. Before he can say anything Steve grins at him and uses his grip around Bucky’s waist to roll them both.

“Like _this_ ,” Steve breathes out as he settles in Bucky’s lap, hands on Bucky’s chest as he takes over, rolling his hips slow and steady against Bucky’s.

Bucky’s laugh dries in his throat as Steve’s head falls back, and Bucky can’t help it, pushing himself up on one hand as he presses his mouth to Steve’s skin. One hand lands on Steve’s waist, pulling at his pants impatiently. “Off,” he mumbles into Steve’s collar bone, before dropping his head further, kissing his way down Steve’s chest.

Steve pushes him flat with one hand just before Bucky could get his lips closed around Steve’s nipple, and he grumbles before being sufficiently distracted by the way Steve pushes his sweatpants off his hips. Before Steve’s weight lands on him again Bucky reaches down, fumbling with his belt before Steve takes over.

He lifts his hips, then sits up again as Steve throws the fabric to the side. His hands curl on Steve’s arms and he tugs, gets Steve back in his lap with a coy little smile.

This time there’s no barrier between them, and Steve lets out a little moan that seems almost unconscious. Bucky grabs at Steve’s ass, nails biting into his skin a bit, and pulls him in tight.

“I want it,” Steve gasps out, shifting his hips a little more pointedly. “Can I have it?”

“Take it,” Bucky says, and Steve’s moving, lifting up so he can reach his nightstand. When he holds the bottle of what Bucky assumes is lube up, Bucky shakes his head slightly, tapping his nails against Steve’s ass. “Wanna see you do it,” he says and grins at Steve’s flush.

Bucky keeps his hands where they are as Steve reaches back, starts to open himself up. He feels the flex, the way Steve tenses slightly before sagging, melting into the touch. Bucky rubs his thumbs back and forth a little, breath coming heavier as Steve’s flush spreads down his chest, as Steve starts to grind back onto his own fingers.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says without thinking and Steve looks at him, chin dropping down further as he meets Bucky’s gaze. “So gorgeous. How’d I get so fuckin’ lucky?”

Steve moans in response, whatever he’s doing with his fingers apparently fucking the sass right out of him. “I’m good,” Steve says, rolling his hips back. “I’m good, can I?”

It takes Bucky a minute to realise what Steve’s asking and he moves his hands when he does, sliding them up Steve’s waist. “Like this?” He asks, and Steve pulls his fingers out, wrapping slick fingers around Bucky’s cock. Gasping, Bucky stares up at him, wanting, _waiting_.

“Like this,” Steve agrees, and shifts his hips, taking Bucky’s cock in bit by bit. As Steve lets out a moan above him Bucky’s hands roam, sliding down Steve’s tensed thighs, up his stomach, over his cock.

“ _God_ ,” Steve bites out, but he doesn’t say anything more, steadily rocking his hips until they’re flush against each other. Bucky just hums in response, distracted by the slick warmth surrounding his cock, by the vision that is Steve above him. He slides a hand up, pushes himself up on his elbow to reach, and tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. He tugs, coaxes, and Steve leans down, almost whimpering as he does.

Their mouths meet, and Bucky groans into Steve’s mouth as their tongues tangle together. Steve pulls back after a minute, pressing his forehead to Bucky’s as he starts to move.

Bucky keeps himself still with effort, humming under his breath into the space between them. “Baby,” he says, croons. “Sweetheart, you feel so good.”

Steve’s response is a soft laugh, barely a huff of breath but he lifts his hips a little more, grinds them down deep as Bucky’s breath punches out of his chest.

“Bucky,” Steve says as he starts to move in earnest, the slow rolls of his hips becoming quick rises, slow drops, lingering pauses. “Bucky,” he says again, like it’s the only word he knows, the only one he can articulate. Bucky tips his head in response, kissing him hard as his fingers tighten in Steve’s hair.

He can’t keep it up long, falling back to his back as Steve speeds up, and he gets his hands on Steve’s thighs, bracing his feet as he rocks up as Steve drops down. Steve’s mouth drops open on a silent cry so he does it again, then again.

Steve holds himself still for a second, before clamping his knees down on Bucky’s sides. “Up,” he says, pulling at Bucky’s shoulder, and it takes him a minute to get the message. When he does he’s catching Steve’s hips, keeping them tight as he rolls them. As soon as he’s got Steve under him again he’s leaning over, getting his mouth on Steve’s as he rocks his hips in deep.

It’s not long, after that. Steve gets his hand between them, tensing and shifting and gasping whenever Bucky does something he really likes. Bucky takes note, tries to do them more, succeeds more often than not. Then, Steve’s shaking apart under him, a soft little cry escaping him as his legs lock tight around Bucky, his hand digging into Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky drops his mouth, pressing kisses over his jaw as he keeps moving, fucking him through it with slow, deep thrusts.

He’s breathing heavy against Steve’s lips as Steve rocks up into him, silently begging. Heat coiling in his gut, Bucky shifts his hips a little, setting his teeth against Steve’s lower lip as it spreads, as he comes with a stilted moan.

He tips himself to the side a few moments later, aware that he’s a hell of a lot heavier on land than he is underwater, and Steve pulls a face and follows him, tucking his head in against Bucky’s throat. Bucky drags a hand down Steve’s spine, tracing the divot just above the curve of Steve’s ass before wandering that hand back up.

“So,” Steve says, breathless, voice raspy. “Better or worse?”

“Than what?” Bucky gets out between breaths, dropping his chin to kiss the top of Steve’s head. He sneaks his thigh up, gets it between Steve’s with minimal protest, feels a kiss get brushed over his throat.

“Underwater,” Steve says, and Bucky can’t help but laugh at this dork that has him wrapped around his little finger.

“Anything’s good with you,” he says, before wincing a little as Steve shifts under him. “But underwater isn’t as… sticky.”

Steve’s laughter makes him grin, even as he gets a sharp prod in the ribs for his efforts.

**

A car comes for them the next morning. Steve’s peeking out the window when Bucky makes it out of the bedroom, patting down the creases in his suit jacket.

“There’s a car,” Steve says and Bucky walks over, letting his hands settle on Steve’s waist as he peers over Steve’s shoulder.

“Oh,” Bucky says, before heading for the door. “That’s the one I ordered.”

“How?” Steve asks as he follows stopping just short of knocking Bucky over when Bucky stops a few feet from the door, turns on his heel. Bucky smiles, closes the distance and brushes the softest of kisses over Steve’s lips.

“Organised it before I left yesterday. You have to meet your new boss before I steal you away again.”

Steve stares at him for a moment, blankly, so Bucky waits him out, smile still in place. Steve looks down at himself next. His jeans look stellar on him in Bucky’s own humble opinion, but whatever Steve sees in himself makes him panic a little.

“I need to change,” Steve says abruptly and turns on his heel before all but running for his bedroom.

Bucky waits, snoops around as he does, and turns when he hears Steve emerging. He’s more than a little gobsmacked when he gets a good look at Steve, taking a few steps into the middle of the room as Steve approaches.

“Holy shit,” he says, and Steve smiles, smug. “You look great,” he says without thinking, and Steve’s cheeks go a little redder even as his smile grows. Bucky doesn’t know if Steve has a suit for every occasion but, frankly, the way he fills out those slacks makes Bucky hope that he does.

“Are we going?” Steve says in response, and Bucky brushes a kiss over his lips before leading the way out.

**

“First you brought him here without consulting the council, and now you’ve brought him _back_ -” Councillor Pierce’s voice is sharp, bordering insulting, and Bucky bites back the retort on his tongue.

“We needed an ambassador, you were there,” Bucky replies, voice flat, not saying what he wants to but not willing to let Pierce get away with what he’s spouting. “Who better for this than one of their own, in conjunction with one of our own? They are more likely to trust another human than the fish people who just climbed onto dry land in front of them.”

There is a snicker across the room, but Bucky doesn’t move his gaze from the slowly reddening Councillor. “And that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re fucking around with-”

“Councillor,” Bucky says, voice perfectly pleasant. The Councillor’s words halt, the man floundering for a second. There is the slightest intake of breath around the room. They know the line the Councillor is walking.

So does Pierce, yet he continues to push, changing tactics. “The Convergence should never have-”

“Is the Councillor suggesting his will be imposed on the Convergence? That he knows what is right for our people better than the leaders of the people?” Bucky shuts him off, forcibly relaxing his fingers one by one until they rest smoothly on the arms of the throne.

Pierce stutters to a halt, glaring, and Bucky shifts his gaze to the other members of the council. Natasha looks absolutely delighted by the turn of events, Fury looks like he is about to fall asleep out of boredom, and the rest seem mildly afraid of what might happen.

It had been a long time since Bucky had exerted his true power as King, but he is prepared to do so now. Especially if it gets Pierce removed from the council.

“The Councillor will stand down, or he will be removed,” Bucky says, almost warm, flirting with the tone. “As he is speaking of a closed topic, and is fully aware of the rules of the council.”

“From the room, or from the council?” Pierce responds, hisses really, venom in his tone. He doesn’t recline against his post, doesn’t relinquish his right to speak before the council.

Bucky’s eyes narrow for the briefest of seconds before he taps his fingers in a light beat on the arm of the throne. “That depends on the next words to come out of his mouth.”

That goes down like a ton of bricks, but Bucky is expecting it to happen. Betting on it, really.

“You should never have been coronated, filthy whoreson,” is the reply, and there’s a sharp intake of breath around the room. “Half-breed like you shouldn’t have lasted a year.”

Bucky clenches his teeth, staring at Pierce as the man’s outburst ends. “Would the Councillor wish to call for a vote of no confidence? Or has he not yet had a chance to bribe the rest of the council?” He says it placidly, but Nat looks like she’s about to fall over with laughter, and the others are staring at him, wide-eyed.

Pierce doesn’t respond.

Bucky takes a breath, lets it out slowly. “We request of the council that the current discussion be postponed, and an assessment of Councillor Pierce’s conduct before the council be started. All in favour, raise your hand.”

Every hand goes up, some slowly, some without hesitation. All except Pierce, which is usually the case.

“The majority speaks,” Fury says from his side of the table, paying attention now that things were actually happening. The Councillor Primus’s face is closed, reserved, but there’s a glint in his eye that says he’s enjoying where this is going. “The assessment will proceed. My King,” he invites, gesturing to Bucky. Bucky nods.

“We move that the Councillor is no longer fit to serve in his position representing the Viridis ethne. He has shown a lack of responsibility, a lack of accountability, and a lack of respect for the council as an entity. We propose the Councillor is relieved of his responsibility as representative and removed from the council.”

Pierce splutters, and Bucky ignores him, focusing his eyes on Fury as the Councillor Primus calls for a vote.

One by one, hands go up. One by one go the nails in Pierce’s coffin. After a moment, all hands are up except for two, Bucky’s and Pierce’s. Even the other Councillor from Viridis has his hand up, unwavering, refusing to look at the man on his left.

“The council has spoken,” Bucky says with as little inflection as possible. He pushes himself upright to float just above the throne. “Councillor Pierce, you are hereby relieved of your duty to your ethne, and the council. We thank you for your service to our people.”

The guards, ever present behind the throne, move forward to escort Pierce out, but he leaves with a parting jab, glancing over his shoulder. “You will see the error of your ways,” he promises sharply, but Bucky forces himself not to react.

As the heavy door closes behind him, Bucky looks at the remaining Councillor for the Viridis ethne. “An election will need to be held within your ethne. The resources of the council are yours to achieve this.”

“And if the people ask after Coun- Pierce?” The man asks, kind voice at odds with his sharp eyes.

“Cite a difference of opinion,” Bucky says after a moment, no one else offering any alternatives. “We would be best not to inflame the situation. He has a number of devout supporters.”

The council relaxes once the guards re-enter, taking up their post behind Bucky again. He settles himself, pulling himself down into the throne again as the conversation turns back to the original conversation, the ever-interesting topic of resource allocation within their new deals with the humans.

**

Bucky’s thankful for the guards that follow him from the council chambers, their unwavering support just enough to get him where he needs to go. When he reaches the library he nods, and the two Mer take up posts on either side of the door. It’s not exactly subtle, but it’s reassuring, and Bucky heads deeper into the library after taking a shaky breath.

The presence of the crystals in the room immediately calms him, their soft glow warming him from the inside out. Steve is standing at one of the tables, hunched over the soft whale-leather scroll he’s reading. He looks comfortable surrounded by things that had once made him stare in wonder, and part of Bucky is relieved that Steve has found a home for himself in Bucky’s world.

Steve looks up at him at his approach, smile waning a little once he gets a look at Bucky. Bucky’s not entirely sure what his expression is saying, but it can’t be good.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks as soon as Bucky’s close enough, holding out his hands as Bucky goes to him. Bucky is immediately folded in against Steve’s chest and he gives a relieved little sigh as Steve kisses the top of his head.

Bucky lets himself be held and Steve seems willing enough to wait Bucky out when it comes to getting an answer. It doesn’t take Bucky long to muster the words. “Pierce. Inferred I wasn’t fit to rule, tried to muddy the waters. He forced my hand.”

Steve’s silent for a moment after he finishes speaking, and Bucky’s thankful for that. “What did you do?” He asks eventually, hand rubbing soothing circles over Bucky’s back.

“I had him removed from the council,” Bucky says abruptly. “It’s not the first time he’s tried something like this, but it was by far the worst. I asked the council, and they voted him out.”

“So it wasn’t you, it was the entire council?” Steve asks, and Bucky knows where he’s going with that, shakes his head.

“He won’t care. He was angry at me, I called the vote, I ridiculed him in front of the rest of the council.”

“Will he come after you?” Steve says, and Bucky can feel Steve tensing up under his hands. He wishes he could reassure Steve, wishes it was that easy.

“I don’t know. He didn’t make any threats directly, but he didn’t need to.”

“Do you think he will? Gut feeling?”

“Yes.”

Steve is silent for a moment, hand never stilling, and Bucky appreciates the moment to think, to pull himself together. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly as he drops his head to rest on Steve’s shoulder. “For getting you involved in this.”

“I’m right where I want to be,” Steve finally says, hands sliding around Bucky before pulling him into a hug. “We can get through this, okay?”

“I don’t want you to have to,” Bucky mumbles, but Steve pinches his side lightly.

“That’s not your decision to make anymore pal, I’m sticking around.”

After a long minute of silence, Steve pulls back, kisses his forehead lightly. While Bucky’s still reeling from that Steve pulls him over, pushes him down on one of the loungers, and straddles his lap. Bucky looks down, then back up at Steve with mild confusion until Steve leans in, hugs him tight.

“We’re gonna stay right here for a bit,” Steve says. “Doing nothing. Just here. Okay?”

Bucky lets out a ragged breath, finally curls his arms back around Steve. “Okay.”

Steve doesn’t let him up for nearly an hour, and Bucky can feel himself relaxing by increments, sagging into Steve. Steve strokes a hand through his hair, kisses his cheek, and eventually sits back with a soft, “There you go.”

Bucky lets his head loll forward a little. “I’m worried,” he says, even though he doesn’t feel it at the moment, everything in him relaxed into Steve’s touch.

Steve sighs like he knows he’s not going to get Bucky to forget, and when his hands press against Bucky’s cheeks Bucky leans into them unconsciously. “Why? Let me help.”

“Pierce can’t have been unprepared for this, so he’s likely got something in place. He’s more than once threatened to try to take control of the council but it’s never been like this. I feel like he wasn’t planning for it to happen so soon, but he’ll be back, somehow. I guarantee it.”

Bucky closes his eyes when Steve’s thumbs rub lightly against his temples. “There’s no way you can get him investigated? If he’s making threats towards the council..?”

Bucky shakes his head slightly, trying to not knock Steve’s hands free. “It hasn’t been overt enough. If he’d verbally threatened us, he would have been removed a long time ago, but he hasn’t so it becomes harder.”

“What do you think he’ll do?” Steve asks softly, kissing Bucky’s forehead as Bucky lets his head fall forward. “What _can_ he do?”

Attention caught by the edge of Steve’s pants, brushing fingers over the skin just above the edge of the fabric, Bucky doesn’t answer for a minute. “He has a lot of devout followers,” he starts, stroking his thumb up the furrow of Steve’s hips. “But I think it goes further than that, especially with our deals still in progress with the humans. I feel like he’s going to try… sabotage those, put the blame on the council somehow.”

Steve hums, looks like he’s thinking, and Bucky lets him in silence, running his fingers up and down Steve’s sides. “Is there anything you can do right now?” Steve asks eventually, and Bucky shakes his head. “Okay. I’m going to keep working on this document, and I wouldn’t mind some help?”

Bucky lifts his head properly, look at Steve for a second before sighing, nodding. “Okay,” he says, latching onto the distraction gratefully. “What do you need me to do?”

**

“Steve,” Bucky says quietly, unable to help himself. “Steve.”

Steve hums in response, kissing his way back up his throat as his thumb rubs over the bruise he’d brought to the surface just moments before. Bucky takes in a ragged breath but catches Steve’s face in his hands. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

“Whatever it is,” Steve says as he twists his head, rubs his lips against the palm of Bucky’s hand, gliding over the skin-warmed scales. “I think you’d not have told me for a reason.”

“I want to tell you,” Bucky tries again, but Steve’s blissfully ignorant, or blissfully focused elsewhere. Whatever he is, he’s more focused on tracing the ridges of scales on Bucky’s thumb with his tongue.

“You don’t have to,” Steve says, and Bucky sighs in amused exasperation.

“Pay attention for a second so I can tell you anyway?”

Steve finally stops, looks him in the eye, and Bucky rubs his thumb over Steve’s lower lip with a little smile.

“Paying attention?” Bucky teases, and Steve pouts at him, then licks the pad of his thumb lightly. “Okay. Remember how I said I inherited things… powers from my mother?”

Steve nods a little, wiggles his arm until he can get his hand between them, fingers lightly rubbing against Bucky’s chest in an all-too-distracting manner.

“There’s an important one that I didn’t tell you about, but I want you to know what it is because…” Bucky trails off for a second, trying to work out how to say what he wants to say, without using the words he’s afraid of. “I… adore you. And I can’t think of anyone more deserving of it than you.”

Steve’s truly paying attention now, eyes flicking across his face, back and forth like he can work out what Bucky means just by looking at him.

“Sirens are… predominantly female,” Bucky starts. “The only males are like me, half of something else. Because of that, they can… reproduce? In another way.”

Steve just looks confused at this point and Bucky shakes his head fondly. “They can turn non-sirens into sirens. Completely overwrite their genetic code, turn anything into one of them. Including humans.”

Steve finally catches on. Bucky can see it in his eyes, “Can you..?” Steve asks, and Bucky nods, just a little.

“Even us half-breeds can, but we only get one shot. It only works once.” Before Steve can say anything, Bucky drops his head, kisses him lightly. “I’d give it to you if you wanted it.”

Steve opens his mouth, but Bucky kisses him again. “Don’t answer now, think about it,” Bucky asks, pleads, and Steve nods a little, eyes warm, soft.

**

Steve comes sweeping into the room without warning, and Bucky looks up from his desk, immediately pushing himself out of his seat.

“Your Majesty,” Steve says as his eyes flick to the guards before he says, softer. “Bucky. I have disturbing news.”

Bucky’s blood runs cold at that but he moves around the desk, legs taking longer than he really wants to get to Steve. He catches Steve’s hand, uses it to pull himself closer. “What’s happened?”

“My latest briefing from work. They’ve got their ears to the ground, have heard that there’s a growing interest in coming here. Forcibly. They’ve heard there’s gold in these lands, that there’s oil, and they want to take it.”

Bucky takes a breath, then another. Forces himself to think. “How reliable is the information?”

“Fairly. It’s a group of investors primarily, rich people looking to get richer. A number of them are citizens of the US, and we’ve been keeping tabs on them for a while. They only sent me the report once they could confirm it.”

“Will they act?” Bucky asks next, moving back to his desk, eyes skimming the map on it. “Where else are they coming from?”

“The US? It can’t interfere, it doesn’t have enough physical proof to be able to arrest these guys without them kicking up a fuss. They’re powerful figures, have to be handled carefully, according to them.” Steve doesn’t sound convinced, or overly impressed at that, but he makes his way to Bucky’s desk, fingers curling on the lip of it. “Most are Americans. A few Canadians, a few English.”

“How long do we have?” Bucky asks, finally, looking back up at Steve.

“A month at most. More likely two weeks.”

Bucky’s eyes flick to the guards, who are standing impassively even as they listen to what’s happening. “Summon the council, please,” Bucky says, and one of them nods, saluting before swimming out of the room. The other stands straight, ready for her orders, and after a moment of thinking, Bucky gives them to her. “Can you advise the Captain of the Guard, ask him to get in contact with our Generals?”

She nods, salutes, leaves, and Bucky turns back to Steve.

“Come with me?” He asks, and Steve holds out a hand without hesitation, pulling Bucky towards him.

By the time they made it to the council chambers, the Councillors were starting to arrive, concern heavy between them. Bucky’s expression must not have been overly comforting, because they’re silent as they follow he and Steve into the chamber itself, and once the last Councillor is in, the heavy door is closed with a dull thump.

“The United States is making good on their promise to share information,” Bucky starts once everyone is settled against their posts. “We’ve received a disturbing report of a threat to our city, and we need to act quickly to counter it.” He nods at Steve who comes forward, starts to speak. It’s the same information he’d told Bucky, so Bucky takes the opportunity to look around the council for their first reactions.

Nat’s stony-faced, a handful are resigned, and some look outright angry, but there’s a feeling of worry that blankets the room. There’s silence as Steve finishes speaking, and Bucky runs a hand through his own hair before speaking again. “We need to obtain our own information, confirm this ourselves, but in the meantime, we should act on the assumption that this is true.”

“We have a distinct advantage,” one of the Councillors says, and it takes Bucky a minute to find the man’s face in the group.

“Councillor Elloran,” Bucky says, waves a hand in invitation. Elloran moves forward as eyes turn to him.

“The human style of war is somewhat incompatible with water,” Elloran starts. “Guns don’t fire. Generic bombs have little effect. Heavy artillery won’t get this deep. They’ll be relying on the element of surprise, which they no longer have. I say we use that, draw them into the open, then remove them from the equation once we get the information we need.”

“Ambassador Rogers,” Bucky says, eyes flicking over to Steve. “You’ve been involved with the American Navy. How would you see them launching this attack?”

Steve looks surprised to be called on, but after a few seconds he straightens, addresses the council once more. “There’s something that I don’t think the Councillor has considered, which I can’t say surprises me because your people likely don’t realise how much of a vested interest rich humans have in getting richer, and what they’re willing to do to achieve that. Even though this is a small scale attack, if rich humans are involved, they may have weapons capable of up to and including Navy-level destruction. Sonar, shock grenades. torpedoes. I think, given the fact that they’re likely coming for your crystals, you’re relatively safe from the latter two, but Sonar could be a major problem. They can turn living things to goo, leaving the overall structures unharmed.” He frowns, looks at Bucky for a second. “They won’t want to risk damaging the crystal caverns.”

“If they know,” One of the Councillors pipes up, Hali. “That only we can farm the crystals, the people will be safe in that regard. Especially if they still think we don’t know it’s coming. They’ll want slaves to harvest the crystals more than they want the other mineral deposits in the area.” Bucky nods as another Councillor speaks, gaze flicking across the table to Pierce’s replacement.

“I doubt Pierce would want the Mer wiped out even if we weren’t necessary. He wants people to rule over. If he’s involved with all of this, which we can’t discount, there’s that we have to consider. Plus the barrier theoretically would absorb a lot of the energy their ship can put out.”

“Knowing Pierce,” Bucky says with a little sigh. “He’s thought of that. He wants to rule, and he’s willing to use humans to get there, so I think Sonar will be a last resort for them.”

Bucky huffs out a breath, nodding before glancing back at Steve. “Okay, so if it _is_ their last resort, what do you think they’ll do as a first attempt?”

 “The best options they would have for long-range hand-held weaponry that _wouldn’t_ damage the landscape would be things like harpoon guns, which are still a danger in and of themselves, but don’t give them the advantage with how slow they are to reload. Especially not considering humans can’t move very quickly with diving tanks. Bombs are still a risk because of the shockwaves they cause, though if they’re looking for the crystals, they probably wouldn’t be wanting to destabilise the area too much. They could destroy what they’re coming to get.”

He pauses, looking a little pained, and Bucky wants to go to him but stays his ground.

“If I were them,” Steve continues. “If I were them, I’d pick targets. There’s no point in wasting your limited numbers in a frontal assault.” He takes a breath, looks Bucky dead in the eye. “If I were them, I’d go for the king.”

The silence is deafening, and no one moves until Steve shifts slightly, looks back at the council. “The king is more symbolic here than they realise, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be the first target. Then they’ll be after you, to ensure there is little to no leadership left. From there, a takeover is easy. His Highness is the most vocal opponent of Pierce, even though you all backed him. Pierce probably thinks that he would be able to work with that as long as the king wasn’t in the equation.”

Bucky sighs, turns his back to the council for a moment, moving back to his seat. “We need to take the appropriate measures to protect the council as well as the people,” he says, sounding a lot more resigned than he’d intended. “I want each of you to have at least one guard with you at all times until this is resolved. Your homes should be swept frequently for any traps or devices. We’re taking no chances.”

“What about you?” It’s Nat speaking, eyes sharp like she’s already got him worked out. Bucky looks at her, then his gaze flicks to Steve for a second as he speaks.

“We need to draw them in, and every trap needs bait.”

Steve stiffens, face going icy at that, but he stays silent, so Bucky looks back at Nat, takes in the council. None look very happy about it.

“You all know that my position is symbolic more often than not,” Bucky says. “The Council is the true leader of our people, and it _must_ survive, _our people must survive_. I’m secondary to that.”

Nat moves forward, sets her hands on her hips. “What do you propose? That we remove your security? That will cause concern in the City.”

“No, just that I don’t receive anything additional. Any plans would have taken my security into account, it would be suspicious if I had none.”

Steve is ice beside him, steely, and Bucky’s almost afraid to confront him after the meeting is done. He keeps talking, digging himself deeper into shit with Steve as he does. “We need to tell the city to prepare, in any case. Whether they get to me or not, they will move on the city, and we need to have plans in place to protect our people. That needs to be our priority, not me. However, I don’t think we should start that until we can confirm the information we’ve been given.”

The council is quiet, but almost sulky, like none of them agree with what he’s saying even though they know he’s right.

“I meet with the Captain of the Guard and our Generals after this to inform them. Does anyone on the council object to the current course of action?”

Steve looks like he is about to object, but he knows he doesn’t have the right to speak when the council is addressed. No one speaks.

“Good. Okay.” Bucky takes a breath. “Nat, find out what you can to confirm this report. You’ll need to liaise with the Ambassador to do so. Be subtle. Everyone else, take some time to think about how we’re going to pull this off, and we’ll meet later tonight to start logistics planning. Eight.”

By the time the council has vacated the room, Steve still hasn’t said anything. Bucky doesn’t look at him, planting his hands on the heavily carved table in front of him, sagging against it.

“You’re angry,” Bucky says, sighing quietly at Steve’s snort. “But I have to do this. I’m not going to take any unnecessary risk, but my people come first.”

He doesn’t hear movement but Steve’s at his side a few moments after he stops speaking. A hand hovers over his shoulder and Bucky leans into it without thinking twice. “I won’t blame you if you want out,” Bucky continues, speaking over Steve’s immediately disagreeing noise. “You don’t have to risk yourself along with us.”

“I’m a little insulted that you think I’d leave at the first road bump,” Steve says, and his voice is grating like he’s trying to hold something else back.

“This is a bit bigger than a fight about… whatever couples fight about,” Bucky says, still staring at the table under his hands, thumb tracing the carved ridges. “But if you stay, I’m going to need you with me, backing me up. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

Bucky doesn’t look, doesn’t think he can bear watching Steve walk away from him, but he’s surprised as Steve’s hand tightens on his shoulder, turns him sharply. Then he’s being pulled into a crushing hug, Steve’s cheek pressed against his.

“Idiot,” Steve says. “Like I’d let you go through this alone.”

Bucky sags into him before he’s even fully realised what he’s doing, hands curling around Steve’s waist.

“If you get hurt,” Steve says quietly after a moment of silence, speaking against Bucky’s hair. “I’ll not stop until all of them are dead. All of them.”

“Best we don’t let them get that far,” Bucky says, pushing up on his toes to kiss Steve. It’s supposed to be soft but Steve takes over, pushing Bucky back against the edge of the table as he all but devours Bucky’s mouth. He doesn’t stop until someone clears their throat by the door to the chamber, and Steve pulls back quickly, hiding his face against Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky glances over his shoulder, cheeks warm, and smiles a little at the guard standing there. “Have they arrived?” Bucky asks, wiggling until Steve lets him go, lets him slide out from between the warmth of Steve’s body and the sharp edge of the table. “Take them to my office, we’ll be there in a minute,”

When the guard leaves Steve sidles over to join him, curling his fingers through Bucky’s. “Ready?” Bucky asks.

“Not in the slightest. Let’s go.”

**

“So,” Steve says, holding his finger against his nose like that’ll stop the blood. “That went well.”

“You kind of deserved it,” Bucky says as he comes over with a scrap of cloth for Steve to use instead.

Steve looks at him for a second before holding out his hand, and Bucky let himself be pulled into a hug. “You nearly fired him,” Steve mumbles, and Bucky shrugs.

“He did punch you,” Bucky says innocently, kissing Steve’s cheek. “But he was just doing his job.”

“Protecting you from your own boyfriend? _Your_ hand was on _my_ ass, not the other way around.”

Bucky snickers at that, rubbing his nose against Steve’s cheek as he slid his hand down Steve’s back to rest on the ass in question. “It’s a nice ass,” he says. “It’s not my fault he didn’t know we were dating, he’s supposed to know everything that happens in this palace.” Bucky pulls the fabric away after a minute, and when he’s satisfied that Steve’s nose isn’t bleeding anymore, he kisses Steve’s mouth lightly. He pulls himself up then, hands on Steve’s shoulders as he hooks his ankles together at the small of Steve’s back. “I’ll make it up to you,” he adds, voice low. “Any way you like.”

Steve’s breath catches, Bucky can feel it from where he’s pressed against Steve, but when Steve meets his gaze there’s something more than desire sitting there. “Accept increased security,” Steve says, flat, and Bucky sighs, curls in on himself until he can rest his head against Steve’s shoulder.

“I can’t,” Bucky says. “Please accept that I can’t. _Why_ I can’t.”

Steve’s hands are still on his back, warm, and when Steve kisses the top of Bucky’s head, sags, Bucky knows he’s won – at least this time.

“I know,” Steve says eventually. “I know, I just. I’m worried. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“If we do this right, that’ll never be a possibility,” Bucky says into Steve’s shoulder. “We just have to prepare for the worst.”

**

The room shudders, a loud rumble echoing through the water and jolting Bucky into wakefulness. He tenses, pulling himself upright as Steve does the same beside him.

“Earthquake?” Bucky asks first when there’s silence for a moment, but Steve’s moving shaking his head as he dresses in the armour Bucky had made for him.

“Unlikely,” Steve replies as he shimmies his way into the armour, and Bucky swims over, starts buckling up one side as Steve does the other. “The timing is too suspicious.”

Bucky hesitates, and Steve grabs his face, kissing him hard. “Get your gear on, I’ll alert the council,” Steve says, and Bucky relaxes with the easy way Steve takes command. “Call the guard captain, your generals, have them meet us outside the council chambers.”

Bucky nods, brain finally starting to catch up, and he turns, reaches for his own armour. “We need to get the city moving. Take this,” He turns, throws the spear across the distance between them, the water softening the speed and letting Steve grab it easily. The crystal embedded in the blade flickers as Steve’s hand closes on it. Steve’s eyes widen as he realises the trust Bucky’s placing in him with that weapon.

“Put the pointy bit into anyone who tries to hurt you,” he says, and Steve barks out a laugh.

“God I love you,” Steve says, and it’s like a kick in the gut for Bucky. He stares after Steve as the other man turns and heads out of the room, one of Bucky’s guards following him.

The second guard enters, but before Bucky can say anything there’s another blast, knocking Bucky sideways as the palace shudders around them. “They’re getting closer,” he says, grabbing his trident and using it to propel himself towards the door. “We need to move. Fast.”

Guards swarm the palace grounds, and it’s reassuring until one of them sees Bucky and sends her blade flying through the water between them. Only his reactions save him from losing something vital, sweeping his trident across his body and knocking the sword away. The Mer is already subdued, arms pinned to her sides as she screams across the distance, “Pierce is coming for you!”

That makes Bucky’s blood run cold, more so than anything else that’s happening. “We need to move,” his guard prompts him, and he nods, keeps swimming past the courtyard. He takes the back corridors up to the council chambers, scowling at the man already waiting for him.

“One of your guards tried to kill me,” Bucky growls, using the end of his trident to close the door behind him. “In Pierce’s name. Something you want to tell me?”

The Captain’s mouth twists like he’s pained, which Bucky is happy to make a reality if he doesn’t start speaking soon.

“We thought we had found all of his followers in our ranks, months ago. The problem had been resolved, so we didn’t think to raise it with you.”

“You were wrong, Sarin,” Bucky says as the door opens behind them. “Ensure this doesn’t happen again.”

The first of the Generals enters, and Bucky levels her with a look. “Has the evacuation of the city started?”

“Yes, My King, and the barriers activated,” she says, before looking between them both. “There were guards fighting each other on the grounds, but it hasn’t spilt into the streets yet. What is happening?”

“This whole thing, Enika,” Bucky says as the second General bursts in. “This whole thing is because of Pierce. His loyalist guards probably spilled our entire plan to the man as soon as we’d come up with it.”

“There’s a ship,” the panting General, Darus says, cutting him off. “Above the city, just like the Ambassador said there would be. That’s how they’re doing this. They’re trying to take the city, with everyone inside it.”

**

As soon as Steve comes through the door Bucky’s moving to him, hand curling tight around his arm. “Steve,” he says, and he can tell as soon as Steve realises things are worse than they’d expected.

“I have a job for you,” Bucky says as he watches Steve look between the four of them. “You’re the only one I can trust to do this.”

“Tell me,” Steve says bluntly. “I’ll get it done.” Bucky’s hand gentles on his arm, thumb lightly stroking over the skin there before he drops his hand. One of the generals speaks up when Bucky doesn’t speak.

“There’s an American ship parked above out city, dropping god knows what onto us. They’re still trying to find us amongst the cliffs, but they’re getting closer. We fear they’ll change to Sonar, like you thought they might. We need you to disable them before they start hitting the city. It is the key to our survival in this.”

Steve goes very still next to Bucky, and his face is closed off as he asks, “Am I to go alone?”

“No,” Bucky says immediately. “You’ll take one of our elite teams.”

There’s a clatter from behind them, and Bucky turns, lowering his trident as he sees Nat entering the chamber. “I’m going with him,” she announces, and Bucky scowls.

“We need you here.”

“There won’t _be_ a here if he fails. I’m going with him.”

Bucky scowls some more, but he knows she’s right, and after a moment he sighs, scrubs a hand over his face. “Fine. Take the Faden team, they’re the most experienced on land. And, Nat?”

She pauses on her way back out the door, glances back. “Stay safe,” Bucky says, and she nods before leaving the room.

He turns to Steve, cups Steve’s face for a moment. “If you die I’ll kill you myself,” he says, making Steve laugh into the space between them. Steve ducks his head down, closing the distance and kissing him quickly.

“I love you,” Steve says, pitched low so only Bucky could hear it. “Stay safe.”

Bucky sags a little, just for a second. “I love you too.” Steve’s eyes light up, and Bucky kisses his chin before pulling back. “Go, be safe. The crystals, Ranasherah, be with you.”

Steve goes, reluctant, glancing over his shoulder before leaving the room after Nat.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Darus says. “Trusting someone who isn’t one of us.”

“The council trusts him,” Bucky says, eyes still on the door. “I trust him. He will stop that ship, or he will die trying.”

**

Bucky’s never been one to sit to the side because of his position, and this is no exception. As soon as their little group has committed to a course of action, Bucky’s moving, taking his trident in hand and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Sarin snaps and Bucky doesn’t knock him back only because Bucky’s protection is his job. “You need to stay out of the way.”

“Not happening,” Bucky replies, hand on the door. “I’m not hiding when people out there are putting their lives on the line for me.”

“So you’re going to make their sacrifice worthless by putting yourself in danger?” Sarin says, and his voice is sharp, too sharp.

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “I can dump half of your guards on their ass in ten seconds, and the other half in less than a minute. I think you forget who you’re speaking to. What kind of leader would I be, what kind of _king_ would I be, if I didn’t lead from the front?”

“A dead one,” Sarin retorts, but he hasn’t moved to stop Bucky.

“If that’s what happens, so be it,” Bucky says. “I’m no more worthy of life than the people who fight for me.”

He leaves the room at that as the three behind him splutter and heads down into the main courtyard. With a twist of his body he’s throwing himself into the fray, the longer reach of his trident knocking back swordsmen left and right. The crystal lets out bursts of energy as he does, knocking people back, speeding the blade up. He knows that as long as he keeps moving, as long as he’s unpredictable, the guards currently trying to remove parts of his body won’t have a chance. A large part of him is glad his father had insisted he learn something other than the sword, and as he knocks attackers into each other, he manages to clear a path for reinforcements to make it to his side of the courtyard.

Eerily, it’s still only Mer fighting. Bucky glances around as he twists, and doesn’t spot a single human, a single breathing tank or set of legs.

“I’m going into the city,” Bucky says to the nearest guard. “Hold your positions, keep them away from the palace.” And, more importantly, from the tunnels running underneath it that the city’s residents were slowly filling.

The man makes a noise of acknowledgement, unable to stop what he’s doing without risking something getting cut off.

When Bucky makes it out into the city, he realises why he hadn’t seen any humans.

He goes to one of the Councillor’s houses first, finds nothing but destruction, bodies hanging in the water where they’d been left. Almost all human, cords to their breathing tanks cut.

Bucky moves on. At the third home he checks, there’s movement, sharp, and Bucky twists, dodging the blade sent his way.

“Are you really him, or just some puppet he’s sent to die in his place?”

When Bucky turns back there’s a Mer, unfamiliar, not in the armour of a guard. She’s flanked by humans, and at least two of them are carrying a weapon that makes Bucky’s stomach drop. Harpoon guns, Steve had called them.

“Does it matter?” he asks, tightening his grip on his trident and feeling far more vulnerable than he’d like to. “You betrayed your people. Your city.”

“You betrayed us!” She screams across the distance, and Bucky knows that she’s worked out he’s the real deal. Not that the gold covering his skin was overly inconspicuous. “You liaise with humans, you spread your legs for them! You’re no King, you’re a siren whore!”

Bucky grits his teeth, doesn’t respond immediately as the humans around the woman stay still. “You’re siding with humans against your people,” he points out.

“Only to get rid of you.”

“You really think they’ll just up and leave once I’m dead?”

There’s silence for a moment, and then a bang as one of the humans pulls the trigger. Bucky knocks the harpoon off its trajectory, but as he’s doing that, he hears the rest firing.

There’s fire in his side as one clips him, but it’s nothing compared to the pain that lances through him as one hits him dead on, burying itself in his shoulder. He doesn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him hurt, just uses his trident to cut the cable tying them to him. He crosses the distance while they’re all trying to reload, the Mer making a run for it as he does.

It’s not a long fight. The men all have knives, but they’re out of their comfort zone, struggling to fight against the water. The water’s on Bucky’s side, and all too soon he’s giving chase, hunting the woman down as his only damned lead.

He spots her ahead of him and pulls to a stop, clearing his throat. Then he hums, low and smooth, focusing on what he wants and not the slowly spreading fire that is his shoulder.

The woman stops in her tracks, turns.

Bucky lets his voice drop lower, crooning into the space between them as she approaches him, as the Ocean pulls her to him.

He doesn’t touch her, just settles back into a low hum before saying, “Where’s Pierce?”

She sighs, doesn’t speak, so he tries again, gentling his tone. “Where is he?”

“He’s in the tunnels.”

“Why?”

“To force the king to show.”

**

Bucky enters the tunnels slowly, keeping his eyes on the opening ahead of him. It’s quiet, too quiet almost, only a smattering of footsteps in the sand around him. As soon as he’s hidden from the world he grits his teeth, snaps the harpoon using the wall. Sure, it’s probably not the best thing to be doing, but it’s better than someone using it against him later.

He keeps going, all but holding his breath. There’s a small toy on the floor as he gets further in, and a broken necklace a little further up. People had come through in a rush and hadn’t stopped to retrieve their things.

Bucky hopes he’s not too late.

The deeper he goes the more remains of a quick passage he finds. But, as he gets closer, the noise of his people starts to reach him. It’s low, hushed like they’re not wanting to bring attention to themselves. Bucky approaches, slides through the opening as quietly as he can, and gets a look at what he’s up against.

The caverns are huge, the top so high he couldn’t even make it out in the dim light, the edges just blurs. People are banded together in small groups, talking, and while some seem worried, there’s nothing to indicate they know of the danger they’re in.

Good.

As Bucky starts to move deeper into the cavern, a silence starts to fall. Those nearest to him spot him first, nudging each other and falling quiet as he picks his way between the groups, weaving through them. The silence flows across the cavern, and Bucky’s heart is in his throat. People catch at his legs, his hands, but he just smiles, keeps moving without a word.

“King… James…” A familiar voice drawls from his left, and he takes a breath, turns.

“Alexander Pierce,” he replies, voice even.

“I see you ran into our welcoming committee.” Bucky has to hold back the shiver Pierce’s words dredge up, especially as Pierce’s gaze lingers on the remains of the harpoon.

“How should I refer to you?” Bucky asks, poking, looking for weaknesses. “Failed Regicide? Or is Murderer more to your liking?”

He’s close enough now to see the twitch in Pierce’s jaw. “Denounce your crown, and nominate me as your heir with the people as your witness,” Pierce says. “And no more will die today. Except you, of course.”

People around them are starting to move, clearing the area as quickly as they can and leaving nothing between Bucky and the man threatening his people. “And what if I don’t?” He rests the tip of his trident in the sand, waiting.

“You’re aware by now,” Pierce says, “Of the ship on the surface above us. And what it can do?”

He’s waiting for a response, so Bucky gives it to him, nods ever so slightly.

“Well, they and I have this thing going, where if I don’t check in every … oh half hour or so? That they blow this city to bits. And my last check-in was about twenty minutes ago, so you don’t have a lot of time to think this one through.”

Bucky pushes all of his immediate reactions down, keeping his face steely. People around them are realising exactly how much of a threat the situation is, and there’s panic bubbling to the surface.

Bucky has two options. Give up everything he’d worked for, guarantee his people’s suffering at the hands of the deranged man in front of him, and accept death. Or. _Or_. Trust Steve.

Bucky purses his lips, takes a breath through his nose, and chooses door number two.

“I think,” he says, slow and clear. “That any life lived with you as King is a life that no one wants to live. You would strip our land of everything we have, sell it off to the highest bidder, and then leave the people to die. You wouldn’t be a King, you’d be a salesman.”

Bucky shifts forward, trident dragging in the dirt behind him. “I think that any Mer would rather die with dignity, as their own free person, than see what you have planned for them.”

There’s a movement from the corner of his eye, and Bucky keeps his gaze forward as he sees people moving behind Pierce. He has no idea whose side they’re on, but he hopes it’s his. He could really do with some luck about now.

“Then you die, and they die along with you.”

Pierce lunges forward, and as soon as he’s close enough Bucky flicks the edge of his trident up, spraying sand up into the water between them. He feels something cut into his side, grabs at it, then there’s a crack of sound between them.

Bucky twists, drops, gets as low as he can, and comes up on the other side of Pierce, ready for an attack, but he freezes at what’s in front of him.

“Thanks for the distraction, my King,” is the deep voice from behind him, and he turns, winces, hand clasping down on his side.

“Fury,” he says, quiet. “Wondered where you’d gone to.”

“Your own orders were to get everyone down here, of course I was here,” Fury says, amused before he looks back at Pierce. “Spotted him an hour ago, but we had no way to get in contact with you. Had to get creative.”

Bucky looks at Fury’s hands, snorts as he sees the harpoon gun. “I’m glad you did,” he says, tightening his grip on his side. “Otherwise that wouldn’t have been pretty.”

“Speaking of.” Fury crosses the few steps to Pierce’s body, pushes it down through the water until it’s resting in the sand. “He wasn’t bluffing, he’s been talking into a device at regular intervals. I hope you have something up your sleeve.”

Bucky sinks down to his knees, patting at Pierce’s body until he finds the device Fury’s talking about. “I hope so too,” he says, before clicking the device on. “Steve.”

There’s silence at the other end of the line for long enough that Bucky starts to worry, but then, scrabbling, and a rough, _“Bucky? What..?”_

“Tell me the ship is out of action.”

_“Yeah Buck, decommissioned. Nat said we should wait here, but we sent the rest of the squad back about ten minutes ago.”_

Bucky sags in relief, and Fury relaxes above him. Bucky looks up at the man, brings the device closer to his mouth. “Come home then. It’s over.”

**

Bucky hears a clatter, snorts, shifts a little around the nurse as Steve comes bursting into the room. He takes Bucky’s breath away, still, but that also may be the pain in his shoulder. Bucky smiles at him, smitten, then glances at the nurse. “Can you give us a minute?” He asks, taking over where her hand is holding bandaging to his shoulder.

She doesn’t look impressed, but goes to the other side of the room, picking through supplies as Steve approaches.

“When they told me you got hurt,” Steve says, and he’s mad, he’s so angry, but Bucky can see it’s not directed at him. “I wanted to do the whole thing over again so I could take my time with it.”

“Steve,” Bucky says, before wiggling his feet, still in his boots. “C’mere.”

Steve comes, and Bucky immediately pitches forward, not wanting to move either of his hands. Steve laughs, a little strained, but catches him, which is all that really matters.

“Hi,” Bucky says into Steve’s chest, smiling against the skin.

“Hi yourself,” Steve replies. There are fingers dragging through Bucky’s hair and he sighs, happy that Steve’s finally with him again after all of that. “I’m proud of you,” Steve says, and it makes Bucky look up in confusion. “Fury told me what happened in that cavern,” Steve says and Bucky hides his face against Steve’s chest again. “You saved a lot of people.”

“So did you,” Bucky says against Steve’s skin. “We wouldn’t be here without you and Nat.”

Steve looks like he’s about to say something in return, but the nurse politely butts herself in, nudging Bucky’s hand off the bandaging. “With all due respect, I need to finish up,” she says, and Bucky grins, leans back without protest. Now that his hand is free it finds Steve’s, and Steve brings it up, kisses the back of it.

“What happened?” Steve asks, and Bucky pouts when the nurse speaks over him, blunt.

“Harpoon to the shoulder, then our dear King decided to make his medical team’s jobs a lot harder by snapping off the shaft.” She pulls a tray over to her, something small wriggling on it, and Bucky sighs. He _hates_ healing.

Bucky scowls. “It was either that or leave it hanging there for anyone to grab,” he grumbles, leaning into Steve a little as Steve strokes his hair.

“Still made our work that much harder,” the nurse retorts. Bucky huffs but stays quiet as she removes the padding, starts to coax silk from the small healing worm. It doesn’t take her long, given the creature was designed for this one purpose, and she weaves the silk around his shoulder. Almost immediately the area starts to go numb. “There,” she says, patting his back lightly. “You’re done. Come back in tomorrow so I can keep an eye on that shoulder.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky says as he pushes away from the nurse’s station, pulling Steve along with him.

“What was that?” Steve asks, glancing back at the Nurse before tapping a finger under the silk covering Bucky’s shoulder.

“Oh. Healwyrm. The silk they produce has healing properties, enzymes that promote repair. Numbs too, so don’t expect me to be able to do much with this arm soon.”

He tows Steve out of the medical wing to the tune of Steve’s hum before catching the arm of a guard. “Can you let the Councillors know that our meeting will be tomorrow at noon?” He asks, waits for the guy to nod and swim off before glancing back at Steve.

“I could sleep for days,” he says, and Steve quickly closes the distance with an amused little smile.

“Let’s get you to bed then,” Steve responds with a smile.

It doesn’t take them long to reach Bucky’s chambers, and Bucky’s immediately pulling at the straps securing Steve’s armour one-handed. “You’re not hurt?” He asks as Steve watches, amused and unwilling to help.

“We caught them by surprise,” Steve says, finally catching Bucky’s hands so he can get his boots off before giving Bucky free reign again. “A couple of bullet grazes on the team, nothing more.”

“Good,” Bucky says, voice low as he tugs on Steve’s pants, gets them down his legs. “Good.” He kisses Steve’s stomach, then pulls back, starting on his own armour. Steve does decide to help with that, hands all-too gentle as Steve bats him away from the buckles and takes over completely.

Once they’re both naked Steve pulls Bucky in, presses a kiss to his lips that’s slow, deep. “I love you,” Steve says, voice quiet. “So much it hurts, honestly. And I don’t want to be in a position where I could watch you get hurt, not again.”

Bucky sighs against Steve’s mouth, carefully curls his arms around Steve’s shoulders, wincing as he moves his left. “What are you getting at?” Bucky asks, not overly worried with Steve’s arms around him as tightly as they are.

“I mean,” Steve says, takes a deep breath. “If the offer is still on the table, I want to… become one of you.”

Bucky stares at him, shocked more than anything. Before he can speak Steve’s nudging them towards the bed as he continues. “I had a lot of time to think while we were up there, and I realised there’s not much I want more than to be with you. And now that humans know about you, there’s not really much to lose.”

“So…” Bucky says, voice scratchy. “You want to stay here, with me?”

“I love you,” Steve says simply. “So, yeah.”

“Okay, Bucky says, brushes his thumb over Steve’s jaw. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”

Steve smiles, ducks his head down, and speaks against Bucky’s lips.

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [tumblr](http://spacebuck.tumblr.com)


End file.
